


begged and borrowed time

by wildholly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 16th Century, 16th century was a gross time they didnt have baths, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Bottom Louis, Drama Teacher Louis Tomlinson, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Prince Harry - Freeform, Royal Harry, Teacher Louis, Time Travel, Top Harry, anal sex heavily implied but not very graphic, but smut nonetheless, psa i know nothing about england and how their royal system works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildholly/pseuds/wildholly
Summary: “It wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case..."orPrompt 60: Time travel au where Louis somehow gets thrown back in time and ends up in the dark ages, during the reign of the Styles family.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 38
Kudos: 160





	begged and borrowed time

**Author's Note:**

> AAAA yay my second fic is posted and I'm pretty happy with this one I think?? Thank you to everyone who checks out this fic and I hope you enjoy! :) Big thank you to kat (haddystan) and hannah (softlouislove) for helping me with this yall are the best <3 Note that there's more than likely some historical inaccuracies in here and I have no idea how the 16th century actually was etc. Don't be shy to leave a comment as well I love reading them! :")
> 
> p.s. happy birthday shay! <3

In a way, one could say that it was all Liam’s fault. But then again, it never would have happened if Louis wasn’t so insistent on being a supportive friend. Blame it all on Louis’ irresistible charm, for all he cares. The point is, the story of how Louis changed history forever began long before he even knew it yet. 

Louis and Liam had been best friends since they first met in nursery. They had an unlikely story; Louis had tripped over the mud pie Liam had been making, thereby destroying it. In the accident, Louis’ face had landed smack in the middle of the pile of mud, ruining not only his face, but his outfit. They should have been furious at each other, been mortal enemies from the minute they met. Instead, while Louis apologised profusely for ruining Liam’s project, Liam was apologising tenfold for ruining Louis’ outfit. In the end, Liam smiled at him and asked if Louis would want to help put his mudpie back together, the biggest mud pie known to man, he had said. Louis simply could not resist the challenge, and plopping down next to the mud pile with Liam, you could say that their friendship was written in the stars. 

The relationship that had begun at five years old only grew once they entered primary school, where Liam and Louis stood proudly side by side. It was in the third year, when they had their first science fair, that Liam realised that he had somewhat of a passion for science. Louis chose something simple for their first fair; English was his forte. He had dreams of becoming a famous actor some day. Liam was much more enthusiastic. He had jumped right into his first project, stressing that he just _had_ to do the volcano experiment he had seen all the cool kids do on television. Never one to discourage Liam and his dreams, Louis said that sounded cool and that he couldn't wait to see everyone’s faces when he won that first place ribbon. 

Unfortunately, Liam’s first science fair didn’t exactly go as planned. Liam poured the vinegar mixture into the volcano to make it erupt, but instead of oozing out, it spurted out all onto Liam’s shirt and onto his face. Liam did end up winning first prize at that fair, though nobody in the class seemed to care, unfortunately deciding he had earned more than a shiny blue ribbon that night. The nickname “soda-face” seemed to stick, lord knows why, it was a pretty lame nickname if you asked Louis. 

“They oughta call you First Place Winner, instead,” he would say proudly, swinging a companionable arm around Liam’s shoulders. 

Secondary school came around eventually, where Liam continued to attract more trouble than either of them wished. It had been about Liam’s twentieth science fair when he had managed to let his test subject, an inchworm, escape from its perfectly sealed and locked habitat. Naturally, Liam couldn't present his project without the specimen, and so the entire team of judges had to just about tear up the whole cafeteria looking for the poor thing. After finding the inchworm hidden beneath one of the table set ups, Liam managed to earn himself yet another nickname: earthworm boy. Once again, Louis simply stuck his tongue out at them, mocking them for their lack of creativity and wit. Liam merely shrugged his shoulders, though there was always an undistinguishable frown to his mouth whenever it happened. 

To Louis, pure, innocent, friendly Liam was never allowed to be upset by the bullies who were simply jealous of Liam’s dashing and admirable traits, not on Louis’ watch. At the very least, Liam being showered by Louis’ neverending compliments would usually raise a smile. 

It wasn’t until the following year that Liam would not only earn his last nickname, but would find his newfound obsession. 

Year Eight was when Louis and Liam entered their first proper history class — no more learning about the beginning of the earth and mammals and instead more about what humans have been doing the past few centuries. 

Louis rolled his eyes at the idea — History 101? Sounded like a bore to him. While Liam had dipped his toe into the science world the past few years, Louis had been submerging himself in the drama route. He was thinking of entering the school play this year; they were performing _Grease_ , his favourite movie!

Whilst Liam had laughed along with his classmates that first day in history class, expecting to be bored to death, it had all changed by that afternoon. 

“This semester, we’ll be starting off in the 16th century,” Mr. Boron, their history teacher, had explained. “Not only will we be learning about how the English ruled in this time period, but we will use critical thinking to determine how it has affected our society today. . .”

Louis had already begun doodling in his notebook, wondering whether Brad, the star football player, would be auditioning for the play as well. Whatever. He would totally be snagging the role for Danny. 

“. . .our first lesson of the semester will be about the infamous Styles reign and the mysterious disappearance of their youngest son, Prince Styles, who was to become king once he found a suitable queen.” 

At that, Liam raised an eyebrow, sitting up in his seat. Disappearance?

“The Styles family ruled through the dark ages of England through the years 1550 to 1568. King Styles was known to be a cruel, unrelenting king, who ruled with an iron fist. . .”

Louis took notes with boredom, glancing over at Liam, who he assumed would be as bored as he was. What he saw, however, was quite the opposite. It was an expression that he hadn’t seen Liam wear since he had first discovered the power of science. 

“. . .it wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case, though there have been many conspiracy theories.” Mr. Boron took a moment to look around the room, “In this class, however, we focus solely on fact.

“Once Prince Styles disappeared, it seemed as though there would be no heir to the throne; the entire kingdom panicked. Desperate to please his people, King Styles sent out search groups, his best knights, the greatest detectives. However, it was all in vain. The kingdom’s frustrations against the king had been building up for years. The day after it was announced that their beloved prince had disappeared, the infamous Riots of 1568 began. The accusations against the king got so intense that their own castle staff began to go against them, accusing the royalty of having kidnapped and murdered their own son. The very next day after these accusations had been made the kingdom found that the king and queen had fled. With no other choice, with no king or queen left to guide them, the mighty King Robert seized the throne…”

And with that, Mr. Boron went to his whiteboard to write down dates and important names to remember. Sneaking a curious peek over at Liam—with the question of whether he thought Brad thought he was cute or not on the tip of his tongue—Louis found him to be immersed in his notebook, mouth gaping open, taking down notes at lightning speed. Frowning, Louis turned back to his notebook to take down notes of his own. They were _definitely_ going to have a talk after this. 

When the bell to release them from class rang at last, most of the students jumped up from their seats, not even waiting for the teacher to excuse them. Louis probably would’ve been among them (auditions were only two hours from now after all) but he had to wait for Liam, who very much took his time placing his things back in his school bag. 

When Liam stood up, slinging his bag around his back, Louis headed toward the door—already ready to chatter about how difficult this class was bound to be—when he heard Liam walk to the front of the class, questioning the teacher. 

“Mr. Boron sir, I have a question about the lesson today.”

Louis swung around at that, now more curious than ever. While this wasn’t exactly unusual behavior when it came to Liam, it was only the first day of class! The teacher, however, smiled kindly at Liam, encouraging him to ask away. 

“I just— I was so fascinated by Prince Styles’ story and I’m dying to know more. Are you sure they never found him? No clues? No anything?”

Mr. Boron smiled sadly at Liam. “Unfortunately not. It seems as though Prince Styles was either kidnapped or he ran away, if we were to look at the situation reasonably. If that were so, however, Prince Styles did a very good job of hiding himself,” he spoke, sighing before taking a sip of his water. 

“Impossible,” Liam mumbled, seemingly to himself. “But sir—”

“Okay Liam, we better get to our next class quickly so we won’t be late!” Louis butted in, seizing Liam’s arm and tugging him toward the door. “Nice lesson, teach! Real interesting stuff!” The door slammed behind them before Liam could even find the time to protest. 

They made it outside and onto their next class, P.E. Liam huffing but nonetheless continuing as they usually would. 

“But it doesn’t make any scientific sense,” Liam blurted out, unable to help himself. “How does someone just—vanish?! With no clues whatsoever?!”

Louis sighed, but refused to put down Liam’s interests, as boring as they may seem to him. “It’s like he said, Li, he was probably kidnapped and killed or summat. The dude must’ve just been really good at not being caught, or they did a really good job at hiding the body.”

“Yes, but even so… years of searches! With no body ever discovered! Unless Prince Styles’ captor was able to flee the country in a night, I just don’t understand how it could be possible!”

Now nearing the gym, Louis groaned internally at the thought of having to do pushups for a whole hour. Realising Liam was still pent up about the history lesson, he placed a kind hand on Liam’s shoulder as they walked. 

“Li, why do you care so much? No need to get so worked up, yeah?”

“I suppose,” Liam mumbled as they entered the locker room together. “Either way, I’m heading to the library after class. There has to be something Mr. Boron forgot about or isn’t telling us.”

As Liam walked away to get dressed in his gym clothes, Louis squawked in offence. “But— what about my audition?!”

____

Liam’s obsession with the disappearance of the infamous Prince Styles didn’t last one year or two. In fact, after they had graduated college and headed off to university together, Liam was still dead set on figuring out what had truly happened to the lost prince. 

If Liam thought he left nicknames such as “Prince Styles’ Long Lost Lover” behind at secondary school, he was only slightly correct. While the history professors at the University of Manchester encouraged Liam’s curiosity, they couldn't help but be confused with his obsession. After all, Liam was a biology major, eventually earning his Bachelor’s Degree of Science there. While the science professors appreciated Liam’s excitement for the subject, they couldn’t help but giggle behind their hands when he would tell people about his long-life dream.

Coming back to secondary school to teach kids about his passion certainly didn’t help with the mocking.

“My name is Professor Payne, and my lifelong dream has been to build a functioning time machine,” he would announce every year. While some children looked to Liam in awe and admiration, others didn’t even try to hide their laughter. 

The teachers in the staff room weren’t any better, sans the name calling and laughter. The only one who seemed to believe in Liam _and_ his dreams was Louis, who had earned his Bachelor of the Arts in Manchester, majoring in drama and now teaching alongside his life-long best friend. 

“And how, exactly, do you plan on doing that?” Mr. Thompson questioned in the lunchroom one afternoon, unable to help himself. 

“Well,”—Liam puffed up his chest, proud—“according to all of the research I have conducted, along with speaking with other professionals who have attempted to do the same as I, it takes a great mixture of technology and electricity. I won’t bore you with the details,” he explained, chuckling lightly. 

The entirety of the professors in the breakroom hummed, unconvinced, and looked away into their lunches. 

“I believe in you, Liam. You got this,” Louis said loud enough so that everyone else could hear. While Liam sent him a thankful smile, the rest of the professors seemed to be pretending as though they could not hear him. Whatever. They would all see, eventually. 

Liam had been working toward this life-long dream of his since they had graduated college and found a teaching job at the secondary school together. To many of the professors’ distaste, Liam mostly worked on the time machine in the school's basement. While it wasn’t exactly ideal, the school had all the materials Liam could think to need, and besides, no one could hear the ruckus he was making. The only downside was that he had to pay the school back for all the materials he used. 

It had been a work in progress for nearly five years now. Liam was determined, spending hours of work on it just to scrap it and start all over again when he hit a dead end. Once he finished it, he said, he would call everyone down and let everyone witness the first ever working time machine. 

Louis would scoff at this, saying that those jerks didn’t deserve to see something as cool as that. Liam would simply give him a patient smile in return.

“It’s a piece of history, Lou. Nobody deserves to miss out on something like that.”

The fateful day that Liam finally finished his life-long dream of creating a functioning time machine just so happened to also be the day that changed Louis' life forever. 

It was a regular day in the lunchroom when Liam barged in, the door making a _bang_ as it hit the wall. Undeterred, Liam walked in with the confidence of a thousand men, with everyone’s attention upon him. 

“Liam, what the hell?” Louis rose from his seat at the table, setting his yoghurt cup down. His conversation with Mrs. Shelley would have to wait. 

Ignoring Louis’ question, Liam walked further into the room, back poised. “Attention everyone,” he announced in a booming voice that caught the attention of everyone in the room and all the passersby in the hallway. “After years of my hard work, years of trying and failing, years of putting all my time and energy into this project…” He paused dramatically. “The first functioning time machine is complete.”

The room that had just been full of silence erupted into murmurs and whispers. Now more panicked than ever, Louis walked to Liam’s side, attempting to catch his attention by lightly tugging at his arm. 

Liam couldn’t be persuaded to stop, though; he was on a roll. “Please — come see for yourselves! Right after the last class ends at 2:30 p.m., I’ll be down in the basement, preparing. I hope to see you all there. Let’s change history together, everyone!”

With one final clap of his hands, Liam left the room with a smile, practically skipping his way back to the basement. Louis raced behind him, determined to catch up and have a word or two. 

“Liam, wait!” he called, shoving his way through the crowd of students. Once he got close enough, he latched himself onto Liam’s shoulder, catching his attention at last. Surprised, Liam stopped in the middle of the hallway. Students weaved themselves around them, entitled enough to not have to worry about situations in which _their_ best friend could potentially embarrass themselves in front of the whole school. 

“You— why— what in the world was that?” Louis panted, still attempting to catch his breath. 

“This is my chance, Lou!” Liam said brightly, unaware of Louis’ rising panic. “After all these years of being ridiculed—I’m finally about to prove them all wrong!” Nodding once, believing his point had been heard, he continued to walk toward his destination of the basement. Once again, Louis was forced to pick up his pace. 

“But”—Louis practically ran to catch up to Liam’s strides, tugging weakly on his arm—“what if you don’t?”

That made Liam stop in his tracks unexpectedly, Louis bumping into his back lightly. Liam was unbothered, though, staring at Louis long and hard. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t it work?” There was a slight edge to his voice. 

“Think about it, Liam,” Louis practically begged, a moment away from getting onto his knees. “Why hasn’t it worked the past few hundred times? You get excited, think irrationally and—and—”

“And what?” Liam asked harshly, beginning to get angry, now. 

“And end up embarrassing yourself!” Louis cried. “And I refuse to let it happen again.”

“But this time is _different,_ Louis, don’t you understand?” He placed his hands on Louis’ shoulders, holding gently. “I think I’ve really got it this time. I thought. . . you’d be proud. This is bigger than just me, Louis. I consider this to be. . . _our_ project. I thought you knew that.”

“That’s. . .” Louis sighed, shaking his head, pointedly not looking Liam in his eyes. “Very sweet of you. Which is why this is so hard to say. A successful time machine is never going to work, Liam. I’ve stuck by your side all of these years, but. . . this obsession is starting to take over your life. I’m worried about you.”

Liam simply looked at him, pure disappointment and betrayal written all over his features. “Well. If that’s how you feel then. . . I don’t even want to see you there later.” Breaking his arm free from Louis’ hold, he turned his back to Louis, walking briskly down the hallway. 

“Liam, wait!” Louis called, though he didn’t even bother trying to run after him. “Why don’t you just—try it in private first to see if it works! Ugh,” he groaned, for Liam’s back had at last turned the corner and out of his sight. 

Louis didn’t care what Liam had said, though. He was going down to the basement this afternoon to watch Liam perform his presentation of the first time machine. Even if, deep down, he knew Liam’s plans would blow up in front of everyone, he would still be the shoulder to cry on afterwards, like he always was. And you know what? He was happy to do it. 

His mind having been made up, Louis walked back to the lunchroom. He had a hot date with a yoghurt cup. 

\- - -

The clock hit 2:30 that afternoon, and the bell rang to let the kids out from school for the day. As much as it pained Louis, he could do nothing to stop the rumours going around the school that Professor Payne was going to do a demonstration in the basement right after class. He actually had to physically restrain himself to not go off on certain students who said they _“couldn’t wait to see how hard he was gonna fail”_. It was making Louis question his own beliefs; maybe Liam really would impress everyone today. At least he hoped. 

After teaching a drama class, Louis was normally the last to leave; he usually had to clean up loose papers that were scattered across the room, props and costumes students hadn’t put away, and organise for the next day’s class. That day, however, Louis was nearly one of the first to leave the classroom. He could clean up the next morning, he told himself; he had to be first down in the basement. Not only did he want to apologise to Liam, but he also just wanted him to know that he was there for him no matter what, win or fail. 

Finding that the basement door was already open, he hopped down the stairs two at a time, making eye contact halfway down with a startled—yet thankfully still alone—Liam. Louis guessed that his banging footsteps coming down the rickety steps had alerted Liam to his arrival, effectively stopping what he was doing, which looked like making his final touches to the machine. Liam’s look of surprise quickly morphed into a small frown. 

“Come to laugh at me, have you?” he grunted childishly. 

“Liam, please. I want to apol—”

But his words were no longer distinguishable as the sound of tens of footsteps began coming down the rickety steps all at once, creating an orchestra of noise down below. Somehow, with all the people that had come to watch, Louis got pushed to the back of the crowd, no longer able to communicate with Liam. There had to be at least fifty people in the room, crowded though it was. In order to see better, Louis raised up on his tip toes. 

Amazingly enough, this was the first time Louis had ever seen Liam’s self-proclaimed time machine. Though Liam said himself that it was “their” project, Liam was always changing the subject when Louis brought up the subject of seeing the machine himself, saying something about wanting him to see it in its glory when it’s finished, not as a large hunk of malfunctioning metal. Louis had to say, as long as it took, it was worth the wait. 

Approximately large enough to fit one human adult comfortably, it looked as though it came straight from the future with all the shiny contraptions and wires attached and hanging from it. Bright red in colour, it stood about seven feet tall, various light bulbs sitting proudly at the very top, twinkling in the dim light of the basement. 

Grinning delightedly at the turnout, Liam stood up straight, looking very important in his lab coat worn over his school clothes. “Thank you all for joining me today. You’re all in for quite the treat, I assure you. This, I believe, is the first working time machine in all of our world’s history.”

Pushing a matching red button that Louis hadn’t noticed was in his hand, the machine lit up, bulbs flashing and dancing delightedly. The crowd _oohed_ appreciatively. Louis grinned proudly. He should have never doubted him. He adjusted his school bag still flung over his shoulder, wishing he had brought a camera, or that his phone hadn’t died in sixth period so that he could take photos. At that moment, he felt like a proud parent. 

“The real magic happens on the inside,” Liam explained, opening the door, revealing the inner portion. “In here, if you’re able to see”—the crowd inched further—“there is a keypad instructing you to put in the date which you would like to travel back to. In this case, I will be setting the date to October 1st, 1568. Once you have set your date accordingly, you pull this lever”—Liam motioned to a large black bar sticking out from inside the machine—“and off you go!” He beamed proudly at himself for a moment. “For this project, the door will, unfortunately, have to be closed. This machine works on electricity, mostly. I actually—um. I have no idea what will happen when this works. Some of you may want to stand back.”

The crowd mumbled among themselves nervously, not expecting this moment to take on a dangerous turn. Some people even left the room, edging and squeezing their way awkwardly through the crowd to go back up the stairs. 

While Liam waited for the crowd to settle, a brave soul decided to ask the question they were all thinking. “How will you get back? If you do travel back in time, I mean.”

“I—um,” Liam seemed thrown by the question. “I imagine that the machine will travel alongside me, able to bring me back if I wish. Now—”

“But you just said that electricity—” another voice called out.

Liam spoke above all the voices, his voice booming throughout the room dramatically. “I will now be travelling back to the year 1568 in order to save Prince Styles and solve the lifelong mystery.”

Closing the door behind him in order to prevent any further questions, faint _beeps_ from the machine were the only sounds heard. Voice slightly muffled now from the door, Liam shouted out, “I will now be pulling the lever! If everything goes to plan, I should return within minutes! While in the year 1568, I may be gone for weeks, or even months, the time here should only equate to a few minutes!”

The rickety sound of a lever being pulled could be heard from even outside the door. For a brief moment, the entire machine whirred loudly, the lights bouncing off the walls, beeping at an all time high. Louis’ eyes lit up in excitement. Was this—actually going to work?! 

Light sparks of electricity began flickering from the machine, some people screamed, running back up the steps to escape the potential fire hazard. The machine began rocking back and forth in what had to be an unhealthy manner, small yells from Liam could be heard from inside. “THIS IS ALL—OW—GOING ACCORDING TO PLAN!”

“Liam!” Louis shouted, attempting to push his way through the crowd. His attempts were in vain. Paired with people trying to run from the room as quickly as possible and others attempting to run closer to try and help, Louis was stuck.

As quickly as it had all happened, the machine suddenly shut down, going completely dark. No more flashing bulbs. No more whirring. For a moment, the crowd was dead silent, waiting. 

The door to the machine opened in a cloud of smoke, Liam stepping out dizzily. Before he could fall, he caught himself on the edge of the machine, looking down. A minute passed before the crowd began filing out, the show seemingly over. Small murmurings could be heard, though Louis didn’t even try to make out what they were saying. As the last person filed out, the pathway was finally free. 

Louis walked up slowly to Liam, who was still looking down, refusing to meet his eye. For a moment, Louis couldn’t think of anything to say. 

“Liam. . .” Louis said quietly. He considered his next words. A simple smile and a pat on the back from his best friend more than likely wouldn’t do the trick, this time. Nonetheless, he had to at least try. “You’ll get it right next time, yeah?”

“Please. . .” Liam answered, just as quietly. “Just. . . don’t.”

Without sparing Louis a second glance, Liam trekked slowly up the stairs, looking absolutely defeated. Louis watched him sadly, standing silently and not moving, even after Liam shut the door behind him. In his departure, Louis was alone in the basement. Besides, well, the time machine. 

Something about the sight of the time machine made a foreign feeling overcome Louis. Out of nowhere, Louis felt an emotion not too far from absolute rage. The machine sat there miserably, a duller shade of red than it had been only an hour before, small clouds of smoke still seeping out from the door. The sight of it angered Louis. This was all its fault! If it had just— worked! Then Liam would be the talk of the town, he wouldn’t be so miserable right now, he— he would’ve done what he’d dreamed of doing since primary school! 

Louis kicked the machine lightly. It made a large banging sound, but otherwise stayed quiet. Louis would make this thing work, whether the machine liked it or not. Growing frustrated, he kicked it harder. The same booming sound reverberated throughout the room. Now desperate, Louis went inside the machine, closing the door behind him until he heard a faint click. It was pitch black inside; how did Liam turn this thing on again? On a small shelf in the corner of the small room was the button he had seen in Liam’s hand. _Perfect._

Hoping that the machine wouldn’t explode in a fiery explosion with Louis inside it, he pushed the button, crossing his fingers. Nothing happened. 

Face dropping, ready to head home and think up a way to apologise to Liam for real this time, he went to exit the machine. _Fuck._ The door was stuck. Trying a couple more times, making sure there wasn’t some secret lock or anything, Louis faced the facts. He would die in here. 

Banging on the door desperately, he called out for someone. Anyone. “Liam?!” he shouted. It was now growing hot and sweaty in the tight, confined space. What had before seemed like a reasonably sized space now seemed positively suffocating. Maybe if he could just get the machine to turn on—

“This thing has to have air conditioning, right?” Louis mumbled to himself absentmindedly, pressing the large button multiple times in a row. Despite the many times he slammed his fingers down onto the button, however, the machine only made a faint, dull clicking sound, as if to say it was out of batteries. 

Okay. Maybe now it was an okay time to panic. 

Throwing his bag that he had slung over his shoulder against the door only resulted in having all of his belongings sprawled out on the floor. So, not the best plan. Ignoring them, he shoved an elbow against the door instead, a sharp pain going through the area.

Deciding to change tactics, he looked around the small space. Maybe. . . if he made enough noise, someone would hear and come get him. Louis spotted the lever that Liam had pulled, remembering the obnoxious sound it had made. Pulling on the thing with all his might—it was heavier than it looked—it suddenly shot down in quick succession, one time after another. In his panic, he hadn’t realised he had dropped the button to activate the machine, accidentally stepping on it. 

With no warning, the machine lit up bright as day, Louis still inside. The sudden appearance of bright lights and flickering colours were not agreeing with Louis’ eyesight at the moment. Blinded and panicked, Louis flung his arms about wildly, looking for an off switch. Tripping over his bag that he had flung at the door, he fell, pulling the lever down with him one last time before the whole machine began to shake violently. 

Now _that_ got Louis’ attention. Banging at the door again, now more desperate than he thought possible, he screamed through the door. The machine drowned out all of his sounds, however, lights flickering more than ever, shaking so hard that Louis tripped once again, nearly falling on his head but managing to catch himself by his elbows just in time. 

Deciding it was better to not try to get back up again, Louis closed his eyes tightly, blindly trying to find something to hold onto. _This will all be over in a moment,_ he thought, attempting to convince himself. 

The time machine now grew brighter than ever, as though it were being consumed by light itself. Combined with the pure blinding light and vigorous shaking, Louis was thrown a third time, knocking his head blindly against the metal wall. Instead of getting back up again, Louis had no control when he passed out on the bottom of the machine’s floor. 

What he wasn’t able to see, however, was the time machine leaving the school’s basement with a _pop_ , leaving no trace behind, as though it had never existed. 

Meanwhile, on the outside, teachers left in their cars, students got packed up in crowded buses, and Liam was busy thinking hard about _how_ he was going to get that time machine to work once and for all. Ideas coming to him, he jumped out of his seat where he had been hunched over his desk, running outside and hopping back into his rusty, old truck. He drove the already short drive back to the school in a hurry. After all, some brilliant ideas just couldn’t wait until the next day. 

____

With a crash, the time machine landed on the edge of the woods with a flash of light. The landing was rough, Louis being jostled around from the inside, awaking him from his brief unconscious state. He stood up gingerly, trying not to touch anything on his way up. Of all the things to fret over, Louis didn’t have much time to worry about whether the door would open for him again. Only seconds after the machine touched the grassy ground, the time machine promptly fell into pieces, the door frame around Louis falling to the ground with a muffled thump. 

Standing in pure dismay for a minute, wondering what the hell had just happened, Louis was in for an even bigger shock when he realised where he was. Instead of the grey, musty basement he was in when he had entered the time machine, he was now surrounded by a grassy landscape in what at first seemed like the middle of nowhere. Looking behind him, he found miles of thick trees growing. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but in the few minutes that he had stepped into the time machine, he was sure of a few things:

  1. He wasn’t in the basement of the school anymore. 
  2. He was outside, in what seemed to be the edge of the woods. How he got there, he had no idea. 
  3. Liam’s time machine, that he had slaved over for years, was now lying in multiple pieces, and it was Louis’ fault. Louis cringed at the thought of having to break the news to Liam. It would kill him. 



As for everything else, Louis was unsure. Looking off to the distance, he noticed that a town seemed to be near. Figuring he could try and find his way back to the school and call Liam— _wait._ His phone!

Having been shocked at his very different surroundings, Louis had forgotten about all of his belongings, still sprawled out on the ground. Immediately, Louis headed for his phone, which had, miraculously, not been cracked. Shoving everything else into his tote bag, he attempted to turn his phone on. There had to be at least _some_ battery left, right? At the very least, he could ask someone from town if he could use their phone to make a quick call. 

Where _was_ town, anyways? Louis was sure that he knew London like the back of his hand, having lived there for so long, but he had never been in this part of the city before. Squinting hard, he could vaguely see the outline of buildings in the distance. Even if it wasn’t a part of town he was familiar with, he could call a cab, or ask for directions. 

Besides, the woods behind Louis were starting to look more frightening than ever. Hearing a rustle among the dense trees, Louis jumped. _Vampires,_ he thought. Hastily making his way away from the scary trees, _thank you very much,_ he walked closer to the bustling town, attempting to get his phone to turn on all the while. 

It was only when Louis got closer that he realised that this looked nothing like he remembered London looking. Instead of bustling streets, cars honking willy nilly, Louis’ favourite stores only a minute walk away, it was filled with women in long frilly dresses, cobblestone streets, and men riding around on horses in very tight and uncomfortable looking clothing. 

It was almost as though. . . he had walked into the middle of an old-timey festival, or something. While Louis had never attended one of these things before, he had to say he was impressed with how dedicated they were to truly transforming the entire city. 

Walking further down the cobblestone street, Louis’ phone lit up at last. Taking in a sharp breath of relief, Louis walked with his head buried in his phone, blissfully unaware of all the strange looks he was getting. 

If Louis thought getting his slowly dying phone to light up at last would save him, he was sorely mistaken. He scoffed in pure disbelief as he opened his home screen to find he had zero bars. 

“How in the world. . .?” he mumbled to himself, scowling down at his phone. 

Holding his phone obnoxiously high in the air in a desperate attempt to get at least one bar, Louis walked aimlessly through the streets, attracting more looks than ever. In his concentration, Louis didn’t notice the low murmurs going on around him, random people who before were simply going out to get their groceries now pointing him out to their acquaintances, whispering about how someone should call the royal guards to get this poor lad checked out. 

The last of Louis’ hope died along with his phone as his screen went black once again. Shoving it hastily back into his tote bag he walked carelessly along, ignoring everyone’s eyes on him. It was probably because he was so fashionable compared to them, he thought snidely. 

After a while, though, the stares and not at all subtle points became hard to ignore. Tucking a strand of hair self-consciously behind his ear, he began walking faster, wondering how long this festival could possibly stretch on for. It seemed as though he had been walking for miles with no sign of modern life. 

Spotting a friendly enough looking man at a fruit stand, Louis found an excuse to step away from all the stares, slinking into the shadow the stand provided. He tapped the man lightly on the shoulder in order to get his attention, hoping to at least get some directions. Goodness knew he would never be returning to one of these old-timey festivals ever again, the way he had been treated. Turning to face him, the man’s face dropped when he spotted Louis. Deciding to ignore this, Louis offered him a smile. 

“Hello, sir, lovely day to be reminiscing in the wonders of England’s history, isn’t it? How are you? I’m sorry to ask you this but—could I borrow your phone? I’m just a little lost and need to make a quick phone call to my friend—”

“Phone?” the old man asked feebly, taking a frightened step back from Louis’ words that he could hardly understand. “What are you talking about, boy?”

Figuring the man was confused because of his elder age, Louis spoke clearer and louder. Everyone turned to look at his shouted words, more puzzled than ever by the strange boy that looked and acted nothing like them. “Your mobile phone? I need to make a quick call. Look—it might look something like this?” 

Pulling his phone out of his bag, he offered it to the man, who promptly cringed back as though he had been hit. The townspeople around them, who had been watching the strange interaction, gasped at the sight. In only seconds, the street in which Louis was standing became mayhem, people calling for him to be arrested, to be sat beneath the king and forced to explain himself, if not beheaded straight away. 

Confused and frightened himself as to why the streets suddenly exploded with bedlam, unaware that he had caused the chaos himself, Louis blended into the crowd, slipping away further into the town. Man, the people at this festival were weird. 

Louis was forced to stop in a mixture of shock and amazement, however, when he noticed for the first time a huge castle at the end of the cobblestone street that towered above all the other buildings within a ten mile radius. Louis was unsure what the castle could mean, or why they would build a huge castle just for one festival, but he knew that if was able to get answers anywhere, it would be there. 

Missing Liam more than ever in this city full of snobs, Louis was eager to be able to call his friend and get himself out of this seemingly never ending festival. He lightly jogged down the last of the cobblestone street until the castle seemed bigger than ever, Louis having to tilt his head up to be able to appreciate the entire view. Before he could go any further, however, he was stopped by a tall black iron gate, far too high to climb. 

He stood considering his options, wondering how the heck he was supposed to get back there. Just as the thought occurred to him that the castle may just be a large and overzealous decoration, a serious looking guard who stood at least six feet marched up to him. “What business do you have with the king?”

Louis blinked up at the man. “Uh. . . what? I’m just— I’m lost? I was just hoping to get some directions from someone. . . normal. If that’s okay.”

The guard raised an eyebrow at Louis, unimpressed. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises if you don’t have anything _of use_ for his majesty.”

“Hey!” Louis squeaked indignantly. “This so _is_ of his majesty’s use! In fact, I’ll— I’ll climb this gate if I have to! His majesty will be forced to hear what I have to say, then! Ha!”

“Is that a threat?” the man’s eyes narrowed wickedly. 

“Um,” Louis thought about the question. He was unsure if the tall, scary man was being serious or not. After all, this was all just pretend, wasn’t it? For all he knew, the “king” could really just be some random dude who loved to play pretend. 

“Yes?” Louis said unsurely, wincing slightly at his own words.

It was the wrong decision. “Guards,” the scary man barked, “take this man here to the king immediately. We’ll see what he has to say about such vermin. Perhaps,” the guard licked his lips, eyes glinting, “he’ll even have a chance to give his first public beheading.”

Two even scarier and taller men with muscles that bulged out of their costumes seemed to appear out of nowhere, grabbing Louis by the armpits, hoisting him into the air. “HEY! Wh-what’s going on here?” All of Louis’ confidence had disappeared. This was getting a little too real for Louis to fake bravado any longer. 

The iron gates opening at last, the three guards marched Louis down the long pathway to the tall castle. Louis had a feeling he didn’t want to know what was waiting for him on the other side of those castle doors anymore. 

“I don’t want to play anymore, guys! I was just playing around, you knew that, right?” he pleaded. “I change my mind— I can find my own way home. Just let me go and I’ll be on my way! HELP!”

But help for Louis was long gone. With a thud louder than the beating of his heart, the castle doors shut behind him. 

\- - -

The castle was bigger than Louis could have ever imagined. He wasn’t sure what part of the castle he was in, he had been too distracted with trying to break free, though his attempts were futile. Even if he did manage to break free somehow, he would have no idea where or how to escape the confines of the castle. Now that he looked around, it seemed to be an endless maze of doors and staircases. One thing he could appreciate—at the very least, Louis thought miserably—was how fashionable the castle was with its sparkling floors, golden walls, and pristine windows that looked down upon grey London. 

Louis now sat chained to an uncomfortable chair in the middle of a large room, empty except for the guards surrounding him. 

Ahead of him was a small set of stairs that led up to three thrones. The one in the middle was the largest, all decorated with red velvet and golden armrests. Louis wondered who they could be for. The people who would send him to his death, probably. But for now, he waited. 

The silence was beginning to make Louis uncomfortable. Before he could think of making it worse by attempting to make small talk, a door slammed open in the corner of the room, revealing a tall man with an obnoxious red fur coat around his shoulders, a shiny crown atop his balding head. Louis had to say, he played the part of a king. From his head to his toe, the only word that could be used to describe him was _royal_. 

“Apologies for my lateness, Nicholas. Not only has the royal prince been troublesome—he refused to come to today’s ruling, even when I threatened to behead him myself, so don’t expect to wait around for his appearance—but the whole town is in disarray. Apparently there’s a strange man going around town, threatening people with gadgets, and— oh.”

The king had taken a seat at his royal throne, staring down at Louis in surprised realisation. “It seems to be that the trouble in question is right in front of me,” he said quietly. 

Louis’ eyebrows raised. “Yeah? How do you figure that? There could be some madman roaming the streets right now, and here I am, an innocent man!”

“State your name,” the king barked, ignoring his attempts. 

Louis was outraged at the dismissal but simply huffed in frustration, knowing he wouldn’t be winning this round; especially with the three deadly men surrounding him. “Louis Tomlinson. My name is Louis Tomlinson, your majesty.”

The king hummed thoughtfully, stroking his chin with his fingers. “And why have you been terrorising my people? Why should I not have your head on a stick at this moment?”

“I wasn’t terrorising anyone!” Louis said earnestly. “I was just asking if anyone had a phone I could borrow; I have no idea where I am, and my best mate, he’s probably pretty upset with me right now, but if I could just let him know where I a—”

“Silence!” the king declared, rubbing his temples irritably.

“He also threatened to break into the castle without royal permission, your majesty,” the first guard chimed in. 

“Suck up,” Louis mumbled under his breath. 

But the king did not acknowledge the guards statement, looking Louis up and down thoughtfully. “I. . . have never seen clothing like you are wearing. Where did you acquire it? I will have the creator killed.”

Louis said nothing, shocked into silence. He didn’t know these festivals got so serious. This was some major role-playing.

“He had some sort of bag with him too, your majesty. It contained… very strange items, indeed,” the guard—Nicholas, Louis remembers him being called—spoke again. 

The king hummed once again, never taking his eyes off of Louis. “Is that right? Go fetch the bag for me, Nicholas.” 

Nicholas scurried away, eager to please. Louis saw this as an opportunity to plead his case. “Your majesty,” Louis begged, “please I— I was lost and just trying to find my way back home! I didn’t mean to scare anyone! I thought—”

“Silence!” the king barked. “I don’t care what you _thought._ My kingdom is in shambles, and it’s all your fault! Oh, yes, we will have quite the punishment for you. . .” 

“But—” Louis tried, eyes welling with unshed tears from the already stressful day that had only gotten worse. 

“Your majesty!” Nicholas barged back in. “I have retrieved the man's belongings. It looks as though it is mostly full of junk”—Louis scoffed—“but this.” Nicholas retrieved Louis' mobile phone from the bag, holding it high for the king to see. 

The king cringed back at the sight. “What is that wretched object?! Been working with Crazy Payne, have you? Threatening my people with such a disgusting object— you ought to be beheaded in front of all to see!”

“It’s not a weapon!” Louis cried. “I wasn’t threatening anyone— I was asking for help!”

But Louis may as well have said nothing. Getting up from his throne, the king spoke to Nicholas. “Collect all of the witnesses you can. We will meet again before a week passes. I refuse to believe any word that comes from this vermin’s mouth,” he spat. “For now— throw him in the dungeons.” 

With that, the king left the room, the door banging behind him, deaf to Louis’ cries of mercy. After Louis had been released from his chair prison, he was carried off the same way he was carried in. Except this time, the three guards led him down an unfamiliar route with stairs heading down. 

Not a person in the castle was unable to hear Louis’ screams as he struggled against the three men ten times his size, he’s sure. 

He’s starting to get a strange feeling that he wasn’t stuck in a large, elaborately planned festival anymore. 

\- - -

Harry sighed as his mother placed the crown gently over his head. It fit perfectly over his curls, giving him an aura of someone completely in control. His mother swooned behind him. 

“What do you think?” she crooned. 

“I hate it,” Harry sighed, looking away from the sight he saw in the mirror. Taking the crown off his head, he placed it down on the table in front of him, walking away into his bedroom. 

The queen hummed disapprovingly, following Harry into his room. “Well, I think it made you look dashing. You’ll be finding the future queen in no time, I’m sure,” she winked. 

Harry groaned, flopping down on his bed. “What if— what if I don’t _want_ to find a future queen? What if I don’t _want_ to take the throne? Why can’t I just be normal?”

The queen sat on the edge of her son’s bed, stroking his hair in an attemptedly comforting sort of way. “We both know you already know the answer to that, dear.”

“Yeah, yeah,”—Harry rolled his eyes—“I’m the heir because I’m dad’s only son. Whatever.”

The queen chuckled at her son’s antics. Graceful as ever, she rose from the bed. “Remember you have a fitting next week for the masquerade ball coming up. Where you’ll find your new queen!” she squealed. 

Harry groaned before exiting the room, leaving his mother alone to daydream about Harry’s future that he didn’t want. 

Unfortunately, Harry has his own duties as prince. Not only that, but he has to do his own special duties to prepare for being king some day. Being king was never Harry’s forte; he had promised himself, long ago, that he would never end up like his father — cruel, relentless, and just plain evil. 

He was to attend certain meetings and punishments with his father, in order to see what kind of duties he shall be doing. Earlier that day, someone who had been causing chaos in the city had come in to face his father. Unable to face one more session of watching his father being cruel, he ended up straight up refusing to go after he had already attempted to use every excuse in the book. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the poor lad. Another beheading, probably, after all, it was known all across the land to be his father’s favourite form of punishment for a reason. 

He was walking past the entrance of the dungeons, on his way to practice for the ball coming up, when he heard the gut-wrenching screams echo up from the depths. Stopping in his tracks, Harry couldn’t help but look down curiously at the door that was hanging open. That was strange in itself, as this door almost always stayed shut. Sure, they had their fair share of criminals that would yell and shout until their lungs gave out, but this was just plain impressive, and he was curious. 

Looking around the spacious room in which the king usually handed out punishments, Harry had to wonder why no one was going down there to shut him up. Telling himself that he would go down there to do it himself, but really going down there out of plain curiosity, Harry walked through the open door, closing it behind him. He really wasn’t supposed to go down here; he would probably be in so much trouble if his father were to hear. _Bugger his father,_ Harry thought, now more determined than ever. 

Going down the long steps to the dungeon, he couldn’t help but think it was strange there was no one else down there. No guards were standing at their usual post, and every holding cell seemed to be empty. It was hard to think about why that could be, however, when the sound of homicidal screaming was piercing his eardrums. 

“HEY,” Harry attempted to shout over the screams, his voice echoing throughout the dark chambers. Almost immediately, the voice stopped. “Where are you? What’s your problem? And why”—Harry wandered the dungeon, looking throughout all of the empty cells—“is there no one else here?”

“I am an innocent man trapped against my will!” the voice shouted dramatically. The man seemed to be in the last cell, obstructed from Harry’s view as he walked. “I demand you release me this moment!”

“How did all of the other prisoners get released?” Harry questioned, ignoring the man’s complaints. 

“This castle is full of straight up _geniuses,_ you know that?” the voice called sarcastically. “The guards heard commotion coming from outside and ran. The other prisoners saw that as their chance, I guess, and just so happened to _forget_ that I was here as well!” he fumed. 

“Yeah, they forgot, alright,” Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes. Honestly, if he were a prisoner, he’d probably leave this screaming man behind, too. 

“Anyways, I’ve been trying to get someone’s attention for _hours_ now. Mind helping me out?”

“ _Help_ you?” Harry asked incredulously, now nearing the prisoners cell. “Why would I—” 

But Harry was struck for words once he caught sight of the prisoner’s face. Though dirtied and beaten, there was still no denying his beauty. His eyes were a crystal blue, reminding him of his younger days when his mother would take him to see the ocean. His lips were a bright bitten pink, slightly swollen doubtlessly due to the beating he had been given. Nonetheless, he looked as kissable as Harry imagines he always does. His brown, caramel coloured hair mussed and tangled in the most beautiful kind of way. The bruises and red marks adorning his body only made Harry want to take care of him all the more. 

“Hello?” the beautiful prisoner challenged, confused by Harry’s prolonged silence. 

_This is a prisoner,_ Harry shook himself out of his thoughts, _he would kill you, given the chance._

“Why would I help you?” Harry finished, but with less bite. 

“Maybe because if you don’t, I’ll start screaming again?” The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly not sharing Harry’s internal battle. 

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Harry scoffed. He turned to leave, unimpressed with the prisoner’s attitude. 

“Wait!” the prisoner shouted angrily as Harry’s back turned. “If you don’t help me, I’ll— I’ll attack you first chance I get!”

Harry snorted at that, beginning his walk down the long hallway of cells. “ _Please_.”

“ _Fine_ ,” the prisoner growled angrily. Though to Harry he sounded more like a disgruntled kitten than anything. “If you don’t let me out, I’ll— owe you one.”

Harry stopped at that, intrigued. As far as he knew, this man was nothing but a lowlife criminal, but he had to know more about what exactly _owing him_ meant. Walking back slowly, he stared at the man who was currently up against his cell bars, gripping the handles tightly, desperately. 

“What’s your name?”

“Louis. Louis Tomlinson. Are you gonna help me out of here or what?”

Harry hummed, liking the feeling of having some power over this criminals’ head. “Depends. What are you in for, huh? Want to make sure you won’t try to stab me the first chance you get.”

Louis scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I’m really dangerous, alright. Just look at me, you doughnut! Who are you, anyways?”

The prince gave Louis a strange look. “What’s a doughnut?”

Realisation seemed to dawn on Louis’ face, remembering his epiphany from earlier. “What year is it?”

Harry gave Louis a stranger look still. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head at some point in there?” When Louis’ glare didn’t give, he sighed. “It’s 1568, last time I checked. What about it?”

Louis' face morphed into a look of pure panic. “Ohhhhh no,” he groaned, pacing the floor of his small cell, hands stressfully running through his feathery hair. “I thought— I didn’t think— ohhhh no.”

If Louis thought he was in some shit before, this was a whole new low. Not only had Liam’s time machine worked, but he was stuck in a jail cell. Not to mention, even if Liam was right, and the time machine would work without electricity, the machine had fallen to pieces the second he arrived! For all Louis knew, he would be stuck here. . . forever?! 

Meanwhile, Harry watched Louis’ mental breakdown in bewilderment and slight awe. This guy was even more insane that he could have imagined. Maybe it was a better idea if he just left. Turning around to hopefully leave for good, Louis called out to him. 

“Hey— WAIT! Don’t leave me here, please! I— I need your help.”

Harry turned back around to face the insane man. He seemed to be doing that a lot. “Oh, now _you_ need _my_ help? What happened to you “owing me one”? Was that some other prisoner I don’t know about?”

Louis bared his teeth up against the steel bars of his cell. “Listen here, you pompous _arse_ — _”_

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry said deeply, straightening his back as if to look more intimidating, “as your soon-to-be king, I can personally see to it that you spend a lifetime in this cell. _Careful_ how you speak to me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Louis rolled his eyes, “the king is probably gonna end up having me killed anyways, so—” he paused, eyes widening. “—wait. . . you said you’re the soon-to-be king? That makes you the prince, right?!”

“That is how it works, yes,” Harry smirked. 

“Just shut up for a moment, alright?” Louis said quickly. His eyes grew wider than ever, pressing his face against the bars so he could get as close to Harry as possible. “You’re in grave danger, Prince Styles.”

Harry spluttered out a laugh, holding his belly as he threw his head back. Louis glared, frustrated that this so-called prince wasn’t taking him seriously. 

“I’m _serious,_ ” Louis shouted over Harry’s honks of laughter. 

Harry leaned against the wall next to Louis’ cell, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “That was a good one, really. What’s next, I have one month left to live?”

“Maybe,” Louis said seriously, “listen — I don’t know much. Goodness knows I should have listened to Liam when he talked my ear off about this. . .” Louis said the last part more to himself than anything. Harry simply raised an amused eyebrow, as though he was watching a particularly entertaining episode of his favourite TV show. “Long story short,” Louis huffed, “I’m a time traveller. And I’m stuck. . . I need to get back home.”

Before Harry could chime in, Louis continued. “Remember that thing I said about “owing you”? This is it. Prince Styles — I know this sounds hard to believe, but I’m from the year 2020. In primary school, we learned about your father’s rule. That’s right, your _father’s_ rule. Hear something strange about that?”

Harry ignored the fact he had no idea what a primary was, because despite the fact that he wasn’t convinced of what the prisoner was saying, he couldn’t help it when his face lit up. “I didn’t have to take the crown?”

“Close,” Louis sighed, looking at the prince with pity. “You didn’t have to because you _couldn’t_ . In 1568, you disappeared mysteriously; to this day, people still don’t know what happened. You could have been kidnapped, you could have ran away — the most popular theory is that you were _killed_. You were never seen again, and a body was never found. My best mate, Liam Payne, from back home, has been dead set on solving this mystery nearly his whole life.”

Harry frowned deeply, his initial amusement disappearing. He seemed to be in an internal battle with himself. “Why should I believe you?”

Louis seemed to be thinking quickly, eyes roaming the room, searching for something, anything, as a form of proof. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “I entered London with a bag. The guards — they took it. If you could find that bag with all my things in it, I could prove that I’m from the future.”

Harry considered Louis for a moment, taking in his large blue eyes, begging for a chance, and his wobbling lip, one answer away from heading into another emotional breakdown. Harry sighed deeply, hoping he wouldn’t regret this decision. 

“My father. . . has a compartment for evidence found on those who enter the dungeon. I will obtain your bag and bring it to you. But,” Harry paused, making sure that this Louis fellow would understand, “if you try anything, or if your evidence comes up empty, I will leave you here and see to it that you are punished.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Louis sniffed. 

Sure enough, Harry was able to find Louis’ now tattered tote bag, squeezing it awkwardly through the bars of his cell. Digging through his bag, Louis managed to retrieve his mobile phone, still amazingly not cracked. 

Taking it out, he offered it to Harry. Similar to the old man down in the marketplace, Harry flinched back slightly. 

“What is that? A weapon?! Did you trick me— is this a trap?! Get it away!” Harry threw himself back against the wall behind him, cowering, slightly. 

“What? No! Why does everyone think this is a weapon? Come here, please. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s called a mobile phone. In the 21st century, it’s most known as a form of communication.”

“A mobile. . . phone?”

“Damn, I definitely should have paid more attention in history class. A telephone? A device you use to communicate with others?”

Harry shook his head quickly, seemingly lost, still pressed against the adjacent wall. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter. The first telephone probably won’t be invented for a few more centuries, but you, Prince Styles, get a special sneak peek as to how a 21st century gem, a _mobile_ phone, works.” Louis grinned at him, as though he were offering the prince a real treat. 

Inching closer, Harry watched Louis closely as he attempted to turn his phone on again. Louis heard a small gasp escape from Harry’s lips as his phone lit up, the home screen showing for a few brief moments before it died from battery loss. It was enough time for Harry to see the date showing, however. _October 1, 2020._

“But. . . how?” Harry breathed. 

“I just told you,” Louis sighed, putting his dead phone back in his bag, “I time travelled here by accident. You’re not. . . um. . . gonna burn me at the stake or something, are you?”

“I—” Harry shook his head, overwhelmed by all the growing information, “not if you’re here to save my life, I suppose not. It sounds ridiculous, and I probably shouldn’t be trusting you but. . . in a way, it makes sense. Your clothes. . . I’ve never seen anything like them before. The words you say, the way you speak, it’s so unlike anyone else. You called me a ‘doughnut’ earlier. What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Louis shook his head impatiently. “Now are you getting me out of here or not? Listen — let’s make a deal. I’ll try my best to figure out why you disappear and how to stop it, and you help me get back home.”

“How do you reckon I do that?” Harry asked faintly, still amazed at the discovery he had just witnessed. He was almost expecting to wake up from a strange dream at any moment. 

“I don’t know, Styles”—Louis ran a stressful hand through his fringe—“I. . . I can show you where I landed. In the machine, I mean. Once I ended up here, the machine fell to pieces. My mate, Liam, said it mainly works on electricity. You don’t happen to have a secret talent for machinery, do you?” he asked hopefully. 

“No, I haven’t got the slightest— wait. You said your mate’s name was Liam _Payne?_ ”

“Yeah, what about it?” Louis questioned. 

“I know a guy. . . he just may be able to help you get back home.”

\- - -

With a lot of shouting and bargaining involved, Harry managed to escape Louis from his temporary prison in the short time span of only thirty minutes. At first, Harry had asked Louis how the others had escaped their cells. After all, there was no key just hanging on the wall; only the guards had access to them. Louis flinched as he admitted that by the end of all the prisoner’s escape, there had been many broken bones and bruises. Indeed, it looked as though some bars had been ripped forcefully from the ground, while others looked like they were sawed off with, well, a saw. Harry didn’t even want to ask why or how the prisoners got access to weapons. His first priority, right now, was securing his safety. Hopefully, the small prisoner and him would be able to exchange a few favours; Harry’s life for Louis’ freedom. 

“How about I just go and ask one of the guards for the key? They’d probably not even question it; I’m the prince, and it’s chaos outside right now.”

“No, you dummy!” Louis scowled through the bars. “They guards give you the key, and then come back to a bunch of empty cells? You’ll have the both of us killed!”

Harry couldn’t help but think that Louis still looked beautiful, even when he was yelling at him. Maybe he really _was_ losing his mind.

It took a while before the two of them decided the old-fashioned-way was going to be their best bet. After a tough battle between a large rock Harry had found outside and the lock securing Louis inside his prison, Louis was able to walk free, taking his tote bag with him. 

Louis looked around nervously as the two of them walked into the town. “Are you not afraid to be seen walking around with me? Maybe I should hide my face, or something.”

“Wait—” Harry’s face lit up with humour, “— _you’re_ the one who was causing chaos all over the city?”

Louis groaned, wishing he were anywhere else right now. “Look — when I first landed, I didn’t know I had travelled, I don’t know, six centuries in the past? Excuse me for causing a little panic”—he rolled his eyes—“I didn’t even hurt anyone though! I really don’t know what the big deal is. Anyways — answer my question! Should I hide behind you or what?”

Harry looked as calm as ever, as though he teamed up with former prisoners on the daily. “Please,” he scoffed. “You think anyone is paying attention to us right now?”

Indeed, whilst some streets were filled with absolute panic, others were completely barren, people hiding out in their houses. _Have I… really frightened people that much?_ Louis thought guiltily. 

“Besides,” the prince continued, “if anyone _does_ recognise you, I’ll think up an excuse. From now on, you’ll be known as my. . . servant.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Louis glared. 

“Think of it as more of an assistant,” Harry said absentmindedly, seeming to be looking around for something, “except, you know, you won't be paid for your services. It’s over there, I think!”

Not giving Louis time to think of an adequate comeback, Harry sped off into a sketchy looking alleyway, Louis grumbling on behind him. 

It was much less crowded in the alleyway, the tall buildings towering over each side of them giving off a threatening aura. It was a cold day, fog slightly obstructing Louis’ view. Afraid, but unwilling to admit it in front of the pompous prince, Louis sped up to match his pace with his. 

“What’s with the alleyway then? Is this where you’ll get rid of me for good and then dispose of the body?” Louis attempted to joke. Harry ignored him. Annoyed, Louis asked again. “What are we doing down here?” 

This time, Harry actually _shushed_ him. The absolute _nerve,_ Louis swears. “Excuse me, _your majesty_ , but I was under the impression that—”

 _“Just shut up, alright?”_ Harry whispered to him agitatedly. 

Walking ahead of Louis, he approached a door, almost hidden by the dirt and grime that had built up over the years. Carefully, Harry knocked on the old, disgusting door. Louis couldn’t help but cringe, but stepped closer so that he was next to Harry. 

For a long moment, nothing happened. As Louis stood there, he almost considered walking away, almost sure at this point that this had to be some sort of a trap. 

That was, until a voice croaked out from the other side of the door, “Hello? State your name and business here.”

“Mr. Payne? It’s me, Harry,” he grinned. Louis scowled. So Styles _did_ know how to be polite, huh? “I’ve got this kid with me— he needs your help.”

“ _Kid_ ?” Louis mumbled to himself. _Leave it to Styles to patronise me every chance he gets_ , he supposed. 

“Styles? That you?” The man, Payne, seemed delighted. Opening the door with a croak, a middle-aged man appeared. “Come on in, lad! And bring your little friend, too,” he winked. 

Disappearing back behind the door, Harry followed suit. Figuring he had no choice in the matter, Louis entered behind him. “He’s not… my _friend._ We struck up a recent deal, and I’m helping him out. In exchange for other services.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Payne chortled, “don’t think I don’t know what _that_ means!” 

“No!” Harry turned a bright shade of pink as the man winked. “I meant— we just—”

Louis giggled at Harry’s embarrassment, deciding to enter himself into the situation. “Ignore him — it’s been a rough day,” he whispered conspiratorially, winking. “If you know what I mean.”

“Ooh, you’ve got a feisty one here, Styles,” Payne laughed. “I think I like him, already! When’s the wedding?”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed of our relationship, sweetie pie,” Louis teased. “The way you’re acting now, I don’t think I _want_ your ring on my finger. I suppose if you apologise real nice, though. . .”

Harry said nothing, ignoring the both of them whilst blushing furiously in the corner of a nice sofa he had found. 

“Ahh, Styles come on now, you know we’re just teasing,” Payne grinned. 

“Ignore him,” Louis rolled his eyes, “I think it’s about time I introduced myself, anyways. My name’s Louis, Louis Tomlinson,” he held his hand out for a shake.

Payne took Louis’ offered hand, shaking it gladly. “Tom, Tom Payne’s the name. What can I do you for?”

“May I ask. . .” Louis squinted his eyes curiously, “Payne with a ‘y’?”

“Yes, Mr. Tomlinson, sir, that has been my last name for generations. Why do you ask?” Payne asked politely, though it was obvious he was puzzled by the odd question.

“Please, just Louis is fine. It actually. . . has to do with why we’re here. Mr. Payne, this is going to sound crazy, but. I’m a time traveller.”

Louis expected Mr. Payne to laugh in his face, to order him to leave his house at once, or to at least treat Louis as if he had lost his mind. Quite the contrary, Mr. Payne went to take a seat next to Harry on his sofa, gesturing for Louis to sit on the one adjacent to it. “I see. That’s fascinating, truly. May I ask — how did you do it?”

Louis sat down across from the two slowly, confused at his enthusiasm. “You mean— you believe me?”

Smiling widely, Payne leaned forward on his spot on the sofa. “Mr. Tomlinson, please. I am a man of science. Of course, someone in the future would be sure to have succeeded in such a task! I only ask — how did you do it? And why have you travelled back to this time? Don’t tell me— there’s an upcoming danger that we all must look out for. Yes, yes, the king has been putting this off for quite a while now, a war must be at bay.”

“Actually, Mr. Payne,” Louis spoke an octave above him, in case he decided to butt in again, “that’s— that’s actually my problem. I _didn’t_ build the time machine. My best friend, Liam Payne, did. I think— he might just be your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson, or something.”

“That’s a lot of ‘greats’,” Harry commented. Louis and Tom ignored him. 

“You mean to tell me — my _heir_ created what was once thought to be impossible?” Payne’s eyes watered with tears of pride. 

“Yes,” Louis’ face softened. “His name is Liam and he’s absolutely brilliant. Building a time machine has been his dream since primary school, and yesterday, he was successful. The only problem is, when I landed in London, the time machine broke, and I have no idea how to fix it. I just. . . want to go home,” he chuckled sadly. 

Payne thought for a moment, stroking his chin. “Of course, I will need to see the remnants of the machine to know what exactly we’re dealing with here. Do you recall where you landed, exactly?”

“Wait,” Louis’ eyes widened, “you’ll help me? I wouldn’t want to put an impossible task on your shoulders.”

“Ah, Louis, my dear friend,” Payne stood up from his spot on the sofa, patting Louis on the shoulder, “they don’t call me Crazy Payne for nothing. Whatever the problem is, we will find a way to get you back home.”

\- - -

Wracking his memory, Louis was able to tell Payne just about where he had landed. “Right outside of town, near the woods,” he had told him. 

When offering to personally show Payne where he had landed, Payne shook his head seriously. “There’s a reason I live in a dirty alleyway, boy. I must be hidden from public view if I wish to survive.” After that, Louis didn’t ask any more questions about Payne’s living condition. 

“But what if you can’t find it?” Louis had asked. 

Payne shook his head seriously still. “I will find it,” he said, allowing no more questions to be asked.

Right before they left, Louis needed to let Payne know one more thing. “I don’t understand much about science,” Louis said abashedly, “but I do remember Liam telling me one thing: the machine runs mostly on something called electricity.”

“Elekrictee?” Payne raised his eyebrows, amazed. “Strange, but fascinating. That, unfortunately, will make my job much harder. But do not fret, my son. Crazy Payne always finds a way.”

And with that, Payne ushered the both of them out of his door. He needed to get prepared for tonight, with no more time for chit chat. Outside again, with the grungy door facing them, it was easy to see how Payne went unnoticed. Even with having just been in his house, he could hardly recognise the door through all the weeds and mud that had grown throughout the years. Impressed, Louis smiled. He may just be able to get home, after all, if Payne was truly a man of his word. 

Silently jerking his chin, Harry prompted him to follow him outside of the alleyway. Despite their rough first meeting, and the fact that Harry was only doing this for him to save his own ass, Louis felt touched by Harry’s dedication. After all, he could have lied and said he simply didn’t know anyone with scientific talent, trapping Louis here forever. Which reminded him — he had so many questions about that recent encounter. 

“So why _do_ they call him ‘Crazy Payne’?” Louis whispered. 

Harry snorted, but said nothing. Right when Louis was about to give up on this ‘potential bonding experience’ thing, he responded. 

“Payne is more than just someone who fixes stuff up. He’s an inventor. He used to go around town, showing people his new inventions. It started scaring people; they would complain to my father. After threatening to cut his head off, he went into hiding.”

“Why do people think that makes him crazy, though?” Louis asked curiously. 

“People don’t like change. Go outside of the status quo, people think you’ve gone crazy. What can I say?”

Louis hummed understandingly. “Unfortunately, I can’t say that much has changed when it comes to that. What kind of stuff does he make, anyways?”

“Let’s just say. . . there’s a reason why, when everyone saw your uh. . . futuristic device, they assumed it was a weapon.”

Harry saw the shocked and frightened look on Louis’ face and continued quickly. “Look — Payne isn’t a violent person, he just. He wasn’t exactly wrong when he said a war is on the horizon. In his excitement of attempting to prove himself to my father, he’s been inventing his own weapons that he could use in the war, most of which, you can assume, did not work out well with the public.

“My father, on the other hand, is in denial. It’s clear that England is about to revolt; they hate their king, and they want change. However, my father thinks that if he just ignores the problem, it’ll go away.” He sighs. “That’s actually kind of how me and Payne met,” a reluctant smile crossed his face, “while everyone else was disgusted by “Crazy Payne’s” antics, I was fascinated. I couldn’t be seen talking to him in public, so I followed him home one night. While he was wary of my interest at first, he soon came to see me as the son he never had,” he chuckled. 

Louis smiled along with him before remembering something. “But. . . if Payne never had a son, how does my Liam exist?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, uninterested. “He still has plenty of time left.” Walking out of the alleyway into the streets, they found that the sky had grown dark. “Damn, it’s gotten late,” Harry cursed. “I’ll have missed dinner. We might have to sneak you in, somehow.”

Harry was doing that thing again where he walked about five steps too fast for Louis. Picking up his pace, Louis attempted to catch Harry’s eye. “Sneak me in? Why would you do that?”

“I already told you, you’re my servant,” Harry brushed him off. “The only problem is. . . will my father recognise you?”

They had now walked up to the main gates of the palace. Having seen the prince’s face, the guards opened the steel gates, no questions asked, not even sparing Louis a glance. This was all going a little too quickly for Louis’ liking. They didn’t even have a plan B!

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Louis quaked. 

Unaware or simply unbothered of Louis’ fears, Harry opened the large castle doors as though he owned the place, which, in a way, he did. Predictably, the queen had been waiting at the door, pacing the floors worriedly. Uncaring as ever, the king sat in a royal-looking seat in the corner, obviously only there because his wife had forced him to be. In his hands sat that morning’s newspaper. When the doors opened with the arrival of his only son, he didn’t bother to look up. 

“Harry, my son!” the queen approached the prince with tears welling in her eyes. “Where have you been that has caused you to miss supper with your family, giving your mother much sorrow in her heart?”

“Muuuuum,” Harry groaned, embarrassed. “I was just out in town, I’m fine.” Louis, meanwhile, was doing his best to hide behind Harry’s much larger body, hoping he would go unnoticed. 

“Well next time you decide to go out into town all _willy nilly_ , I hope you—” the queen cut herself off, looking behind Harry’s body curiously, “—who is that?”

Louis kept silent, unsure if it was a direct question. Were common folk allowed to speak to royalty directly? Would he be assassinated if he dared look the queen in her eyes? Thankfully, Harry answered before Louis could get even more in his head. 

“This is my new servant. That’s why I took so long tonight. I’ve taken him in so that he can do my bidding for me. I figure if I am to be king, I should get used to being in a position of power.”

“That’s my boy,” the king said uninterestedly from his seat, not looking up from his paper. 

“Oh, Harry,” the queen’s eyes began to water again, “I’m so glad you’re starting to embrace taking the throne.” Sniffling heavily, she pulled Harry in for a hug while he weakly protested. Louis going forgotten now that the royalty knew that he was of little importance, he stood there awkwardly, waiting for instruction. 

“I’ll order for your supper to be sent up to your room. And Harry,” the queen called as Harry began guiding Louis up a long staircase to his room, “that servant is _your_ responsibility, alright?” she grinned. “Don’t think we’ll hesitate to throw him out if he messes up! Maybe your father will be able to finally try out his beheading machine,” she winked. 

Harry grumbled uncomfortably until they reached the top of the stairs, turning out of sight. Once it seemed as though they were truly alone, Louis allowed himself to voice his worries. 

“I’m on the run from the castle’s guards for trying to go home, and I face beheading. I try to fit in and become a servant for the castle, and I face beheading. What _is_ this place?”

Harry shushed him lightly, looking around them nervously. “Just wait until we get into my room, alright? You never know when someone could be listening.”

Louis jumped at the statement, looking around them. There seemed to be no one, but that still didn’t quell his nerves. Maybe accepting help from a prince who lived in a heavily guarded palace wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

As Harry calmly shut his bedroom door behind him, Louis began on his ranting, flinging himself exhaustively on Harry’s plush bed. “What gave her the right to talk to me like that?! You’d think I was your pet!”

“You did well,” Harry commented, calmly shrugging his coat off. “It would be better if you didn’t say anything with royalty around; your attitude would give you away. I should give you a fake name as well. How do you feel about ‘William’?”

Louis glared at him from his spot on the bed. “I suppose it’s true that all royalty is the same,” he sneered. 

Harry simply raised his eyebrows at him, saying nothing, waiting. 

Louis sighed defeatedly. “William is fine. It’s my middle name, so I’ll remember it fine.”

“What a nice coincidence,” Harry said pleasantly, toeing his boots off.

“And the way she didn’t even look at me! You’d think I was a piece of gum at the bottom of her shoe!”

“What’s gum? Stop making references to things from the future, alright? It’s getting annoying. If you slip up in front of anyone else, you’ll be caught out right away.” Harry was now scouring through a chest, seeming to be looking for something. 

“I can’t help it.” Louis sat up slightly, watching Harry curiously. 

“Besides,” Harry continued, “It’s better that she wasn’t paying attention to you. You look ridiculous.”

Louis squawked loudly, offended. “Wha— excuse me?!”

“Have you looked at yourself at all today? You’re disgusting, you were sleeping in a dungeon not too long ago. Not to mention, you’re wearing your clothes from the future. What are those things you have on your legs?”

The worst part of all of this was, Harry wasn’t even being mean. It was true; Louis had the remnants of dirty sludge and dirt all over his face and clothing from his afternoon spent in the dungeon. Any hope he had of resurfacing his “future clothes” back to their former glory might as well have gone down the drain. 

“They’re called jeans,” Louis sighed, rising from Harry’s bed. He figured it was the least he could do to not dirty his pristine looking bed as well as his carpets. 

“A-ha!” Harry suddenly exclaimed, standing up from inside his chest, holding up two pieces of clothing. Louis was unable to inspect them for long before they were being thrown at his torso. 

“Hey!” Louis scowled. Nonetheless, he took a look at what he had been thrown. There was a worn-looking white shirt along with a baggy pair of brown pants. “What is this?”

“They’ll pass as servant’s clothing for now. At the very least, it’ll help you fit in,” he explained patiently. “If they don’t fit, I suggest you ask another servant around here if they have any extra uniforms.”

“Thank you, Prince Styles,” Louis took this moment to look genuinely at the prince, who seemed surprised. “You’ve certainly given me more than I’ve deserved, given the circumstances.”

“Please,” Harry’s face dropped slightly, “I’m no prince. The only thing I’m destined for is to let down my people, just like my father did before me.”

Louis looked away, unsure of what to say. Unfortunately, that made him all too aware of exactly how disgusting he was, noticing the dark marks he had made on the perfect carpet. Louis’ cheeks heated up for an entirely different reason. 

“Can I— where is your shower?” Louis asked innocently. 

Instead of receiving an answer, Harry gave him a look Louis was all too sick of seeing, and it was only his first day in another century. 

“Bathtub?” he asked hopefully. 

Harry’s face gave nothing away, still giving him the same unimpressed look. 

“How do you people bathe yourselves?!” Louis exclaimed, outraged.

“ _Shut up_ , do you want the whole palace to hear you?! What do you mean — bathe?”

Louis suddenly became aware of how absolutely disgusting the entire city of London had stank the past twenty-four hours. Disgusted, Louis pretended to gag, though the true temptation seemed to be creeping up his throat. 

“I don’t care if I’m only here because we owe each other something. Order up a hot bucket of water and a bar of soap! It’s about time _someone_ in this city had a bath.”

“You know what? You’re right,” Harry looked at him, strangely smiling. Louis frowned, not trusting that look on his face. “And as my new official servant, I think _you_ should be the one to retrieve those items.”

Louis stared at Harry’s smug face for a moment, unbelieving. He couldn’t help but imagine what he would look like with a fist colliding with his face. _Louis’_ fist, more specifically.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Harry raised his eyebrows, still smirking like the smug bastard he was. “Chop, chop!”

Louis glared at him, leaving the room, slamming the door behind him. He may not want to please the self-satisfied attitude Styles had going on, but he wouldn’t be giving up his hygiene. Maybe the mystery person who murdered Prince Styles wasn’t so insane, after all. 

\- - -

As a servant of the prince of England, Louis didn’t have the right to stay in a fancy room such as Harry’s. Albeit reluctantly, Harry led him to an empty room, known as the servant’s quarters. 

“It’s not much, but,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, “you have to understand it would look strange for you to spend the night, yeah?”

Louis said nothing, simply nodding obediently. He was unsure of how acceptable servants speaking to royalty was. At the very least, he knew he couldn’t speak to Prince Styles the same he would in privacy. 

Harry frowned at his silence, though he understood considering the circumstances. “Look — the beds are comfortable enough, and I promise we’ll go out tomorrow, as soon as I’m free from—” a nearby servant went by, glancing at them briefly before continuing on their way, “—and I command you to have my breakfast ready bright and early tomorrow morning.” Once the servant had passed, Harry looked at Louis awkwardly. “Uhm— sorry about that. Just meet me by the alleyway tomorrow, alright? You remember how to get there?”

Louis nodded obediently, refusing to meet his eye. Harry frowned deeper. He had apparently already grown to— not _appreciate_ Louis’ snarky remarks, but certainly expect them. Afraid of showing him any sort of courtesy in front of everyone else in the palace, Harry awkwardly walked away, though his walk was not as confident as he wished it could have been. 

As soon as Louis entered his servant’s quarters, he allowed himself to snort. No, Harry would not be the perfect prince, but not for the reasons he thought. 

\- - -

That whole next week was filled with things that Louis, to be honest, would rather not be doing. Unfortunately, to be able to uphold his role as Harry’s new servant, Louis would be walking by the prince’s side only to be whisked away by another servant, questioned as to why room #124 hadn’t been cleaned yet. Luckily, Louis had become a good enough liar throughout the years to get him out of such situations, but still. 

The good news, at the very least, is that he hadn’t found any more excuses—or rather, gotten in enough trouble—to run into the king or queen again. This meant most of his time was spent with the prince himself, which gave Louis a good taste as to why exactly he hated being a royal so much. 

Especially with the masquerade ball coming up (which, according to just about everyone in London, was the most important event of the year) Harry never seemed to have a free spot open to help Louis with his own problems. In a way, Louis had become somewhat of a glorified bodyguard, without the experience or the rippling muscles. 

Tensions only built on Louis’ side as well, running around corners and checking twice before entering a room to make sure none of the guards who had brought him in nor the king or queen were in there. He had been hearing murmurs around the castle about all of the prisoners who had gone missing, but especially “that one lad who caused an uproar in the city”. Not only had the city turned against him, but they were turning against their king, as well, for not having a better handle on his kingdom staff or the prisoners in question. Louis wasn’t sure what was worse, that he was officially on the run or that he was about to witness a vital point in history. 

It certainly didn’t help that Louis being known professionally as Harry’s “servant” meant the prince started treating him differently, both in and outside of private spaces. Louis knew the prince was a bit of an arse, though he could admit begrudgingly that he was attractive, but some of the things he had asked him to do have stooped to a new low. 

One day, Harry had found a free space in his schedule, and so Harry led Louis secretly to his bedroom so they could have a bit of a chat about their next game plan. They had agreed that two days from then, they would wake up in the morning and Louis would meet Harry down by the alleyway where they had gone to see Payne the first time around. That wasn’t before Harry complained that his bedroom hadn’t been tended to for a while and not-so-politely ordered him to clean it as he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

The worst part was, Louis wasn’t even sure if Harry was aware he was doing it. Louis really wanted to like the prince, but it seemed to be getting more difficult by the day. 

The only way he seemed to make up for it, however, were the ‘sorry’s in his eyes whenever someone who wasn’t Harry treated him a certain way, as though he were below them. At the very least, Harry protected Louis as much as he could, given the circumstances. Darn the prince’s irresistible good looks. 

Louis stood by the entrance of the alleyway, looking very non-suspicious in his ratty-looking clothes, if you were to ask him. It was a little _too_ easy to escape the palace as just a lowly servant, strangely enough. He supposed if he had left with the prince it would be okay to leave, considering he was, in so many words, his “assistant”, but he had left alone with no strange looks being thrown his way. Were the three guards that had brought Louis in on his first day the only security the castle had?

It wasn’t hard to see where all the guards had been spending their time, though, as he watched a nearby guard standing seriously by a familiar looking fruit stand. Not too far away from the stand, a torn and tattered looking piece of paper hung from the top of one of the stands. Squinting his eyes to get a better look, he read:

_MISSING PRISONER: Louis Tomlinson_

_If found, report to the nearest guard - 10 shilling reward._

Below the words was a very poorly drawn picture of what one of the guards probably remembered Louis’ face to look like. Despite the lack of artistry skills, the sight of the sign still brought slight fear to him. He would end up dying here, wouldn’t he?

An elder looking man eyed Louis suspiciously as he walked before heading on his way. Perhaps Louis was being quite odd, standing in the entrance of a dark alleyway, doing nothing. Louis shuffled his feet awkwardly, wishing Prince Styles would hurry up already. 

Contemplating whether Louis should just head up to Tom Payne’s without him, a strange man in a large coat that shielded the rest of his clothing and a hat approached him. With his head down, Louis was unable to see his face properly. The strange man seemed to look left and right, as if to make sure no one was looking. Before Louis could think to break out any of his forgotten martial arts skills, the man pulled Louis into the dark alleyway. 

“Hey, what’s the big idea—” Louis struggled against the arm that persistently dragged him deeper into the darkness. Only until they were hidden from public sight that the man removed his hat and coat, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder. “—Styles?!”

“Sorry about that,” Harry said sheepishly, “I had to get away from the guards — it’s best if no one recognises me.”

Despite the heart attack the prince had just given Louis, he walked down the familiar path, Louis close behind. 

“But what about last week when we visited Payne? You had no problem with disguising yourself then,” Louis questioned. 

“That’s because it was dark and the whole city was in panic; a guard wouldn’t have noticed if I left if I did it right under their nose.”

“Or say. . . if you fled the city? Got kidnapped?” Louis tried. Harry glanced at him once out of the corner of his eye, unimpressed. “Too soon? Alright.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your side of the deal,” Harry huffed. “No offence, but it seems as though you haven’t been doing much to help me out, here.”

“I’m telling you what I _know_! There’s a reason why it’s an unsolved mystery, Styles.”

Before Louis could go on longer about ungrateful monarchs, they had reached Payne’s disguised hiding place, Harry knocking lightly on the door. 

Throwing away all of the mysterious energy Payne had grown the night before, the door flung open only seconds later, not bothering to ask who was there. “Come in, come in, the both of you. Quick, now, in case anyone followed.”

If Louis thought the space that Payne had in his house was small before, it was nothing compared to how it was with a broken-down time machine in it. Squeezed up against the walls, the wreckage was worse than Louis could have possibly remembered. Torn apart into three different pieces, wires were ripped from their sockets, lightbulbs smashed, and various screws loose. Not to mention, there were several pieces to this machine that hadn’t even been invented yet. They would need more than materials or talent to fix the time machine up; they would need a prayer and lots of faith. 

“Is it— do you think it’s salvageable?” Louis asked, a second away from biting at his fingernails. 

“Well,” Payne huffed, “it’ll be quite the struggle, but, I’ve made tougher projects work,” he winked. “If you can believe it, one time I tricked the king of England into letting me design the newest weapons for the upcoming war!”

“You did _not_ ,” Harry groaned over Louis’ soft giggles.

“Not yet, my boy, but one day!” Payne exclaimed. “The hardest part of this, of course, will be figuring out how to infuse elekrictee into the machine. Yes, my boy, we will need some sort of miracle, indeed.”

Payne kicked them out of his small hiding spot with the promise that the base of the machine will be finished within a week. Until then, they were to “leave him alone”, because “he would be busy”. When Harry wasn’t looking, however, Payne whispered to Louis that he was welcome to come over anytime he wanted so he could get a better look on how that “felly-tone” worked. Louis politely declined. 

Harry wasted no time once they made their journey back out the alleyway. “Tell me more about what you know. About me.”

“You know what I think is funny? You ask so much about yourself, but haven’t asked one question about me. That hurts my feelings, not gonna lie, Styles.”

Louis was forced to stop when Harry seized him by the arm. “Listen— I don’t care what you think. We are not friends. It was agreed at the beginning of our first meeting we would _help each other out._ And from my side of things, you haven't been doing much help at all. Not to mention, you’re technically a felon. I’m risking punishment with my father for helping you right now. I could lose everything — my life! If at any point I figure out this was some sort of _sick joke_ —”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, Styles!” Louis wrenched his arm back, shaking it out to regain blood flow. “You ever heard of a joke before? I was just playing around, mate.”

“Chill. . . out?” Harry’s eye began to twitch.

“Look— I’ll start taking this more seriously, alright? I should have been seeing this from your point of view as well, and I’m sorry. You’re right, I haven’t been fair. But I just thought maybe, while we’re waiting for, you know, doomsday, we could have a little fun?”

Harry began walking again, not waiting for Louis to catch up. “I have no time for “fun”. I am a prince, soon to be king. I have my own duties to fulfill.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be king, though?” Louis ran to catch up to him at last.

Harry gave Louis an incredulous look. “How do you know that?!”

“It’s pretty well known, mate,” Louis said earnestly. 

The prince laughed without humour. “I’m that transparent, am I?”

They walked in silence for a few minutes until the light from the town began to seep through the alley. 

“It’s one of the theories, you know,” Louis admitted. “Some say that you hated the idea of becoming king so much, you fled. Though how you managed to hide yourself so well that you were never seen again, people are unsure.”

Harry shook his head before Louis had finished speaking. “No. I never want to take the spot of my father, but. I would never just abandon my people like that. My family.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Louis said softly as Harry began shrugging his disguise back on. “If you really loved your people, why do you hide from them?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Harry said dismissively, “it’s too much to be bombarded every day with questions. _‘When are you getting married?’_ _‘What is the king going to do about the current crisis?’_ why can’t I just be a normal kid?”

“That’s just it, Styles. If you had run away, you _could’ve_ been a normal kid.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, not quite ready to head back into the light. “I don’t believe it,” Harry said quietly. 

Louis shrugged. “Ultimately, the decision is up to you. You decide your own fate.”

Harry kept staring, to the point where Louis was almost uncomfortable. He looked away, trying to think of anything else other than the almost... _soft_ look the prince was giving him. No, it couldn’t be. Prince Styles had given no other indication that he felt nothing but hatred toward him. 

“You want to have ‘fun’, you say?” Harry said at last, dumping his disguise on the side of the alleyway, as if to prove a point. “I’ll show you I can have fun. 16th century edition.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but followed Harry as he bravely stepped into the light, ignoring all the stares that came their way. This oughta be good. 

\- - -

Despite Louis’ initial thoughts that Harry would take him to a local, laid back spot in London, he was proved wrong by their first trip. Following the prince with high hopes, they ended up walking to a high building not far from the palace. By the look of the people entering — women with high hair, poofier dresses, men in tight suits, tighter shoes — this was a place reserved for the upper class only. 

While under Harry’s sad excuse for a disguise he wore his regular prince-y attire, Louis was decked out in his servant’s clothing, therefore uncomfortable heading within spitting distance of the building. 

Stopping in front of the building, Louis looked around, unsure. “Prince Styles?” he questioned. “Are you sure. . . I’ll be allowed in there?”

Harry frowned, looking Louis up and down. “I already told you, to the public, you’re my servant. Wherever I go, you go. Come on, now, I promised you I can have a good time, didn’t I?”

Louis tried to hide the disappointment from his face, following close behind as Harry entered. If anything, the inside of the building made him feel worse. It was a small space; there were only about ten tables spaced out across the whole building, and yet it still managed to look quaint and elegant. Every head turned to face them as they entered. Louis’ face heated with embarrassment. 

Either unaware or just uncaring of the fact that Louis clearly didn’t belong here, Harry looked around, searching for somewhere to sit. “Look”—he pointed to a table with two other occupants—“I know them, they’ll let us sit with them for a bit.”

Facing no other choice but to follow Harry to the table, Louis followed about two steps behind him, keeping his head down. He was going to have to ask the prince, at some point, how acceptable it was to talk to royalty as a “servant”; he was sick of wondering whether he would get caned or not if he even slightly looked in one’s direction. 

Two of the seats in the four-seated table they were headed for were occupied by a man and a woman. _They were truly images from their time_ , Louis thought to himself. The woman was pale white, wearing a tall, powdered blonde wig with assorted accessories. The man looked as uptight as ever, holding a pinky out before sipping tightly from his tea. They both looked up, surprised, when Harry approached. 

Before the two occupants at the table even gave Harry a chance to sit, they jumped out of their seats, shocked at the sight of him, both leaning into a deep bow. “Your Majesty Prince Styles! Welcome! Please — take a seat! Would you like us to leave? Take up company with someone else?”

“Um—” Harry took a seat, motioning with his eyes for Louis to do the same, “—no, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

“It’s simply been too long since you’ve come to a public outing,” the woman gushed excitedly, fixing her wig that had gone crooked after her low bow, somehow making it even more crooked.

“Yes, too long indeed,” the man chimed in, “just last week you missed the funniest thing—”

“Oh, yes, it was quite comical!” the woman continued, both desperate for the prince’s attention. “A servant went to serve the pastries—”

“And they slipped—”

“You know these people?” Louis asked out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Ehhh. . . kinda,” Harry answered uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. He suddenly regretted not picking anywhere else to sit. 

“You’ve arrived just in time, as well!” the woman proclaimed. “The servants should be making their rounds any time now—” her eyes narrowed as she seemed to notice Louis for the first time, “—and who is this?”

Harry had been zoning out, looking determinedly away from the woman’s desperate eyes, snapping to focus when he realised she had asked a question. “I’m sorry— what?”

“Is that your servant right there next to you? I can tell by his… unfashionable attire he is not one of us,” she sniffed haughtily. “What is he doing outside of the kitchen?” her eyes grew darker, “Shall I call the guards?” 

Meanwhile, Louis stared resolutely down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. Harry kept glancing at Louis out of the corner of his eye, unsure how he should reply. 

“This is my servant, Lo— William. I have personally asked him to join me in a tea outing this evening. He, actually, has been insisting that I have an outing — some time for ‘fun’.”

The woman sat up in her seat, glaring daggers at Louis. “You ought to not let him talk to you like that, Prince Styles! Before you know it, he will begin to believe he has power!”

“Yes, indeed, Prince Styles,” the man chimed in. “What do you say; should you give him a punishment right here? Humiliation may seem simple but is quite effective, I promise you.”

“I—” Harry swallowed, seeming to choke on his words. “William. Perhaps working, when I have given you the right to have tea with me, is enough of a punishment.”

Louis promptly rose from his seat, almost relieved to have an excuse to leave the table, and started walking to the kitchen alongside the other servants, but not before Harry caught his look of betrayal. Despite Harry’s wish to not look ridiculous, and that he had no power in front of his colleagues, he felt a flash of pity. The door swung behind Louis as he disappeared behind the kitchen door. 

“Perhaps,” Harry excused himself, standing up from his seat, “I should drive home the message a little stronger. I’ll just — have a talk with him.”

The couple both hummed in agreement, nodding their heads heartily. Before Harry could hear any other comments they cared to share, he allowed himself in the servant’s kitchen, looking around. Louis couldn’t have gotten that far in such a short time, could he? 

Sure enough he spotted Louis, his back turned to him as all the nearby servants sunk into a bow. Ignoring them, he tapped Louis’ shoulder, hoping he’d give him a chance to explain. Why he felt the need to explain himself to a near stranger, Harry was unsure. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling. 

Louis, apparently still peeved, did not turn, cooking something foreign over a dim fire. Harry, on the other hand, grew more annoyed. _Of course Louis wouldn’t understand his struggle_ , he thought, _he had never had to go through something so. . . so frustrating!_

“Look,” Harry started, controlling his voice into something more calm, considering they were in front of an audience, “you don’t understand. I couldn’t just _not_ give you some sort of punishment. I would have looked like I had no power, letting a lowly servant walk all over me!”

This seemingly did not impress Louis at all, as, if anything, his composure hardened. “I’m lowly, am I?” he said quietly. 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Harry countered, anger rising. “They were cornering me, and if I’m to be king, I couldn't just— you wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, if those are the kind of people you consider your friends, I don’t think I’m inclined to understand,” Louis bit back. 

“They’re not my friends,” the prince said quickly. “I told you when we first came in I only _knew of_ them—”

“Liam would be so disappointed,” Louis sighed, seemingly not listening to a word Harry was saying, “his hero, the mystery of the man he’s been wanting to solve for so long — a coward.”

An inhuman growl emerged from Harry’s throat as he swirled Louis around to face him. The servants around the vicinity fled, otherwise pretending they couldn’t hear nor see what was happening. “You know, maybe I _should_ make you my real servant. Either that or I’ll turn you into my father. Tell him you threatened to kill me, have me taken away and never seen again. That’s what this all is, anyways, isn’t it?”

Louis glared up at him, before an unknown emotion crossed his eyes. Without a warning, he pushed Harry out of his way, marching out the back door into the streets. Harry followed close behind him, uncaring about the servant’s stares or the couple in the dining room, who were probably waiting for his return. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Harry shouted after him. Louis wasn’t totally sure where they were, but it had to be another part of the city. It was an alleyway similar to the path where they visited Tom Payne, except there was a large heap of something brown and mushy against a wall, creating a very pungent smell. 

Louis turned around to face him so that they only stood feet apart. “If I’m going to be killed by the king anyways, what’s the point? I may as well run for my life, yeah?”

“I didn’t mean that,” Harry said quietly.

“Well, I do,” Louis sighed. “Deal’s off.”

Harry stared at Louis in a mixture of shock and disbelief for a moment. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m done, man!” Louis took a step closer, as if to accentuate his seriousness. “If this is the way that you think you should treat people, I’d be insane to stick around you any longer. Deal’s off. I’d rather die of the plague in 16th century London and never see my best mate again than work for you.”

Louis turned around again, stalking off down the alleyway, before Harry tried to give his explanation one last shot. _And he’d be honest this time_ , he told himself. 

“Wait,” Harry called out. Though Louis didn’t owe Harry anything, he stopped, waiting. Harry figured that was the best bet he was going to get, and began. 

“Listen, I—” he swallowed, “—I know they made you uncomfortable. They made me uncomfortable, too. And. . . I’m sorry.” Louis’ back straightened suddenly, listening hard, “But my family,” he sighed, “if they knew I rubbed shoulders with non-royals. . . I’d be thrown out. Just as homeless as your local street rat. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you, but most of all. . . I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you thus far. You’ve been nothing but patient with me and— and you didn’t have to warn me about being killed. I’m grateful for that and would like to have another chance at. . . friendship. Please. Don’t go.”

Louis considered for a moment, before turning around, walking back so that he stood in front of the prince. “You mean it?”

“Yes,” Harry said uncomfortably but genuinely, “I’d like it if we could… start over.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop treating me badly?”

“Yes,” he answered, looking Louis in the eyes. But Louis wasn’t done. 

“I’m not your servant anymore?”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed. “But— how do we hide your real identity? How do I explain to my parents—”

“How about you introduce me as your _friend_ ,” Louis suggested patiently. “Odds are the king and queen won’t recognise me. Hell, the king didn’t even look up from his paper…”

Harry huffed, but complied. “Yeah, sure, fine.”

“ _And_ ,” Louis continued, “I won’t have to stay in the servant’s quarters anymore.”

“I can arrange for that to happen. Anything else?” he said sarcastically.

“Nothing else I can think of right now,” Louis hummed pleasantly. “What do you say, Prince Styles”—Louis held his hand out for a shake—“friends?” This moment reminded him strangely of nursery, when he had befriended Liam after they should have hated each other.

The prince took Louis’ hand in his own, shaking it heartily. “Please,” he attempted a smile, “call me Harry.”

Louis smiled broadly, feeling as though they were off to a good start. “Well, Harry,” he began, pulling him by his hand out of the alleyway while he vaguely protested, “I don’t know much about 16th century London, but I _do_ know how to have a good time. I’m about to show you what having fun _really_ means.”

\- - -

“This. . . is fun?”

In Louis’ defence, there wasn’t much to do that he was familiar with in 16th century London, when many activities, items, and foods hadn’t even been invented yet. However, he had been quite amazed and delighted when he found that a homemade play was being performed right on a street corner. 

Louis demanded that they stop to watch the performance, curiosity overcoming him. After all, drama _was_ his forte.

“I declare thee,” a man in a feathery hat shouted for all of London to hear, “banished!” dramatically, he knocked another actors’ feathery hat off of his head. 

Despite Louis’ original excitement, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. Shouldn’t this have been around the time that Shakespeare swooped in to save modern plays as they knew it?

“Um— what play is this again?” Harry asked quietly so he would not be overheard by the overdramatic actors. 

“I have no idea. You don’t happen to know who Shakespeare is, do you?”

Harry merely blinked at him. Thankfully, that was all the answer Louis needed, already used to the prince’s pessimistic attitude. 

“Nevermind, then. I suppose it’s just because I’m a drama teacher that I see all that they’re doing incorrectly!” Louis had half a mind to walk over there and give them a lesson about when to and when not to overact.

“Drama teacher, eh? That’s certainly. . . interesting,” Harry commented.

For the first time since they had arrived at the street corner, Louis was able to tear his eyes away from the horrific scene to look at Harry, who was decidedly looking away. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad,” Harry said quickly. “It’s just something that’s not really. . . taught in schools? I’m just surprised.”

Louis hummed, glancing back at the actors, who were now whacking each other with their hats. “I suppose that makes sense. Judging by their performance, I can’t say I’m surprised they didn’t get professional training,” he sniffed. 

Without another word, Louis walked away from the scene, heading in no particular direction, looking around curiously. Harry followed close behind. 

“And you’re a professional, are you?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand!”

Harry scoffed, but a reluctant smile played at his lips. “Where are you going, anyways?”

Louis hummed mysteriously before changing his tracks, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I think. . . I’d like to go back to the castle. Really shove my new. . . _royal_ title in the king and queen's faces,” Louis glanced quickly at Harry, “no offence.”

At the mention of his parents, however, Harry stopped in place, causing Louis to stop alongside him. The expression on his face was one of pure horror. 

“What?” Louis frowned. “Did I offend you, mate? I’m sorry. I know they’re your parents and all, but—”

“It’s not that,” Harry said quietly. “My fitting for the royal ball. It was today at noon. My mother will kill me.”

Louis’ eyes widened as large as Harry’s. If Harry was dead, that meant he was, too. “Have we missed it already?!” he practically shouted. 

“There’s only one way to find out!” he shouted back, looking as though he was on the verge of a breakdown. 

Suddenly, the wicked smile came back to Louis. “I’ll race you?”

\- - -

The queen paced the floor, brow knitted in worry. “He should be here any minute now, don’t you worry, Pierre.”

The tailor looked worriedly at the queen, never having seen her in such a state. “There’s no worries, my queen. I could always come back, if—”

“No,” the queen said quickly, “I’ve been reminding him for weeks, he should be here soon. If he doesn’t, well. We’ll just have to send out a search team or—”

With a bang, the door to the room flew open, revealing a breathless but giggling prince with Louis right behind him, draping himself over Harry’s shoulder for support. 

“And _that_ ,” he breathed, “is why I don’t exercise. Totally would’ve won if you hadn’t _cheated_ , though.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Harry said, looking at Louis with pure joy in his eyes, unaware of the glare coming from the queen, “maybe if you hadn’t tripped two different times. . .”

“Hey,” Louis glared playfully, “that ground was rigged, and you know it.”

“ _Ahem_ ,” the queen brought the attention to herself at last, not very politely. 

“Mother,” Harry greeted her, face immediately falling. “I’m sorry I’m late, I just lost track of time and—”

“Let’s just get started. Stand up on that pedestal and let Pierre do his job. Chop, chop!” the queen decidedly did not look in Louis’ direction as he stood by Harry’s side uncomfortably. 

The tension in the room was palpable. Harry turned to Louis, sensing that he didn’t want to stick around to witness the explosion that would surely come from the queen any minute now. “You can wait for me in my room if you want? Or feel free to explore the castle.”

Louis smiled gratefully at the out he was given, saying nothing as he left the room quickly, closing the door behind him. Without a word, Harry stepped up on the small pedestal that was erected in the middle of the room. 

There was a beat of silence before the queen wasn’t able to hold her tongue any longer. 

“Who was that?” she asked, feigning innocence. 

“Who are you talking about, mother?” Harry answered, bored and staring straight ahead as he let the tailor do his job. 

“That man you just walked in with,” the queen said irritably, “who was that?”

“He—” Harry was hesitant to admit anything personal to his parents, but at the very least he was thankful his mother hadn’t recognised Louis, “—his name is William. He’s my friend.”

“I didn’t know you had friends,” the queen said curiously. Harry frowned. “At the very least, I hope he doesn’t get in the way of any of your princely duties any longer. You know what will happen if this happens again, don’t you?”

Harry wasn’t sure if that was a threat towards him or Louis, but either way, it didn’t sound good. “Yes, mother,” he coughed. 

“Especially if you are to find a queen by the time the masquerade comes on Saturday. Honestly, Harry, punctuality is a good trait to have.”

But Harry had stopped listening, uninterested in the queen’s lecturing. In the back of his mind, he could vaguely register her discussing what kind of mask he would wear, what colour would best bring out his eyes, but the only thing he could seem to think about is what Louis could be doing at that very moment. 

\- - -

“Oh, come on, the prince said I could do whatever I wanted!”

The guard simply stared at Louis, unimpressed. Seeing as Louis had hardly eaten anything the whole day, he thought his first order of business would be to find out where exactly the kitchen was. After all, the castle staff wouldn’t mind whipping something up for an old friend of the prince’s, right?

Wrong. 

The brunette guard, one Louis had never encountered before, was unbothered by his personal needs. “If you don’t mind, the kitchen staff has duties of a little more importance to get to than serve. . . who are you, again?”

“William!” Louis said smartly, apparently having thought he outsmarted the guard with the simple question. 

“William _who_?” The guard rolled his eyes at Louis’ rambling. 

Louis’ eyes widened as he realised they had never decided on a good last name for his alter-ego. Louis fish-mouthed for a moment, at a loss. 

“Now that you mention it. . .” the guard continued, eyes narrowing in thought as he began to look at Louis more suspiciously, “the prince has never mentioned anything about having a friend over before. . .”

“So, what?” Louis scoffed, “You and Harry are suddenly best friends? What’s _your_ name?” 

“I asked first!” the guard exclaimed, offended. 

“William er… Williamson?”

“Your name is William Williamson?” the guard snorted. “Tough life, kid.”

“It’s a shame,” Louis clucked his tongue disappointedly, “I’ll have to tell my old buddy Prince Styles all about how one of his precious guards disrespected me. In his own castle, as well!”

The guard scowled, but ultimately decided the thought of possible outrage from the prince wasn’t worth it. “Fine. But if you’re not out within the next five minutes. . .” 

“Beheading from the king, yeah, yeah, I got it,” Louis rolled his eyes, shouldering his way past the guard. 

Even for a high-class kitchen with staff made for serving and keeping up the food, the space looked very unimpressive at first sight. With one wooden table in the middle of the room, the rest of the space was filled up with sinks against the walls, and steaming pots with hearty fires burning underneath them. Looking around, Louis found there were no refrigerators, ovens, or microwaves in sight. How had he managed to survive this long again?

Tapping a young woman cleaning out a cupboard on the shoulder, she turned. “Excuse me, I know you must be quite busy, but is there anything that I could eat? I’m simply famished, to be honest.”

Unlike the hostile treatment Louis had gotten from the guard, the young woman smiled at him kindly. “Of course, kind sir. What may I get for you?”

“Well, I’m sort of craving— wait, what do you guys have?” By that, Louis meant what has and hasn’t been invented yet. 

“Anything you would like, sir. We have cheese, bread, vegetables…”

Louis frowned when she finished listing items. “That’s— that’s it?”

“We have some honey to make dessert, sir, but I’d much rather recommend such a dish after dinner.”

“But that’s ridiculous!” Louis exclaimed, throwing his hands up. Without the young lady’s permission, Louis began scavenging through the cupboards, searching for how many ingredients they actually had. 

“Sir, please,” the young lady’s eyes had grown very large, “what on earth are you doing?”

Louis stopped his scavenging for a moment to face all of the servants and staff, whose eyes were now all on him. Despite the slight tenseness in the air, Louis smiled. “I’m going to show you all how to make a _real_ meal.”

\- - -

Harry just about ran from the room once the tailor said that he was good to go, not in the mood for what his mother would say to him once they were alone. The slight glares that were slyly being sent his way throughout the session were hint enough. He only hoped Louis had avoided getting into any trouble in his absence. 

Assuming that Louis had stayed within the confines of the castle, he checked his bedroom first. Seeing that the room was as empty as he had left it that morning, he frowned. Certainly, the bedroom would have been the safest place to wait for Harry. However, he supposed he had to put part of the blame on himself; he _had_ encouraged Louis to explore the castle. 

Huffing out a breath, annoyed at himself, he checked where Louis had been sleeping the past few nights, in the servant’s quarters. Which reminded him; where would Louis be spending his nights now? He had promised Louis he would be getting better treatment, but how could he explain to his parents that his new friend that he had just met would now be living with them? 

Unsurprisingly when he checked in Louis’ old bedroom, it was empty, save for a few of his belongings. _Maybe he could stay in my room while we figure things out,_ he thought idly to himself. Passing a castle servant in the hallway, he asked them to please move Louis' belongings to his bedroom. It was temporary, he told himself. 

Louis being nowhere upstairs wasn’t a good sign, though. That meant he had to have encountered at least one servant or guard, and who knows what kind of trouble he could have gotten himself into. 

Stepping fastly down the stairs, he nearly barged into one of the prince’s personal favourite castle guards, who looked as though he were close to a panic attack. “Prince Styles! I was just searching for you!”

Harry’s eyes widened. This couldn’t be good. “Why? What happened?”

“There’s this man who claimed to know you, he threatened to have me fired so I let him in but now he’s creating a mess of all the castle and—”

“Whoa, whoa slow down, Niall!” Harry spoke over him. “What are you talking about?”

Niall gulped loudly. “Just — come see for yourself, your majesty.”

As Harry was led to the castle’s kitchen, it was easy to hear that the guard was not the only one in a state of panic. Standing right outside the doors, he found that it sounded less like panic and more like… excitement? Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he opened the doors, the guard quivering behind him. 

The kitchen quarters looked more crowded than he had ever seen it before. Perhaps that was because the entire staff seemed to be crowded around a single person, eagerness and excitement seeping off in waves.

Every question Harry had in that moment seemed to be solved the second he heard Louis’ voice rise up from the crowd. He stepped up behind the audience, able to see what Louis was doing even with the large throng surrounding him. 

“. . .make sure to butter each side, or else it will turn out all burnt and gross. After you lay the first piece of bread down, that’s when you want to add the cheese.”

Indeed, a very thin piece of bread, one like Harry had never seen before, seemed to be sitting over the fire. Curiously, he stepped closer. Some servants, having noticed the prince’s appearance, quickly moved out of his way, bowing respectfully. Harry wasn’t able to pay them any mind, however. 

“How long should it stay over the fire?” one woman asked. 

“Both sides should stay over the fire until it is a nice brown colour. Look —” Louis flipped the item over, revealing a piece of bread that seemed to have turned a nice, golden brown. The crowd _oohed_ in fascination. 

“And that,” he finished, setting the item down on the nearest counter, “is how you make a grilled cheese sandwich.”

The entire staff broke out into a polite applause, some running off to try it for themselves, while others crowded more into Louis’ space, asking questions of their own. Harry stood in awe for a moment, amazed with how easily Louis was able to wrap the kitchen staff around his finger. 

“So you do know this man, your majesty?” Niall, who Harry had forgotten was still there, asked him meekly. 

“Uh. . . yes,” Harry snapped himself out of his stupor. “His name is William, we just met the other week.”

“William Williamson, huh?” Niall snorted. Harry raised an eyebrow at him, confused. The guard blushed a bright red at his look. “He’s very attractive, your majesty. Funny, too, though I hate to admit his humour was used against me. You’ve made a great choice.”

“What do you mean?” Harry questioned, eyebrows raising further. 

“I just figured. . . the way you were looking at him just now made me think as though you already have our next queen in mind.”

Harry was shocked into silence. Though he had known, the first time he had seen Louis, that he was quite beautiful, he didn’t think his attraction was so obvious. Besides, Louis wasn’t queen worthy; his mother would throw a fit if he knew a non-royal would be their next queen. It’s not like he had thought about his mother’s reaction before, it was just. . . stating facts! Yeah, that was it. . .

Before Harry could think of how to put all of those thoughts into words to properly tell Niall off, the guard quietly excused himself, mumbling something about getting back to work. The prince slouched slightly, mentally reminding himself to tell Niall off the next time they ran into each other. 

At that point, the space had cleared around Louis as the rest of the staff got to work. Louis had begun to clean up his mess, still having not noticed Harry’s appearance. The prince stepped up slowly behind him. 

“William Williamson, eh?” Harry asked lightheartedly, a smile in his voice. 

Louis jumped at the intrusion, spinning around. His face relaxed once he saw the culprit. “Yeah, well. I was under pressure, alright? Maybe teach your little guard friend, who seems to think the two of you are besties, by the way, to be a little less. . . What’s the word. . .”

“You mean to tell me you don’t want the guards to do their jobs?” Harry snorted at him. 

“I’ll have you know I was simply looking for something to eat!” Louis defended. “And then, well. Things may have gotten a bit out of hand,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. 

Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. “You taught them something that wouldn’t be invented for decades, didn’t you?”

Louis frowned, avoiding eye contact. “Try centuries.”

They were both silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. The sound of clanking filled the space as the staff went about their day, unaware of the seriousness of what Louis had just done. Though Harry was aware that what Louis had done was bad — _really_ bad — he couldn't stand to see that look on his face any longer. 

“Maybe. . .it’s not that big of a deal,” Harry admitted. Louis’ head snapped up to look at him. “I mean how much will the invention of the. . . grilled cheese sand witch really change history?”

“Sandwich, Harry,” Louis giggled, “it’s one word.” 

Harry smiled at him, eyes soft. 

“I guess you’re right, anyways,” Louis continued. “There’s no need to worry about it now anyways, since it’s already happened. The only way to know for sure is when I go back. _If_ I ever go back, that is.”

“Hey,” Harry said, more serious this time. “You’re going to get back. You know that, right?”

Louis shrugged his shoulders, looking away again. He seemed unwilling to talk about it; it had become a bit of a sensitive topic for him. Harry frowned at himself. He always seemed to mess things up, didn’t he? Ignoring the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Niall saying that Louis looked quite like his future queen in this light, he turned to Louis with a grin, deciding to make it his goal to brighten his mood. 

“Wanna see your new room?”

\- - -

“This is my new room?” Louis looked around in amazement, despite the fact that he had been in Harry’s bedroom before. It had a bit of a different effect, he supposed, once he realised that this would be his current sleeping quarters. “But. . . where will you sleep?”

“I was actually thinking, um,” Harry blushed a deep crimson, “we could share the bed. For now.”

Louis paid no attention to Harry’s shuffling feet or bright red face, instead flinging himself on the bed like he did on the first night. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Louis was as nervous as he was, to be in such close quarters with each other only hours from now. 

“So I’ve been thinking,” Louis commented from the bed, facing Harry on his side, “this masquerade ball thing.”

“What about it?” Harry asked, sitting on the edge of the bed gingerly, only inches away from Louis’ body. 

“What if. . . _that’s_ where it happens?”

Harry stopped to think. He hadn’t thought about that idea before. In fact, he found he had hardly thought about his disappearance at all that day. 

“Think about it,” Louis continued. “If it’s to happen in this castle, there’s plenty of room for uninvited guests to sneak in. Among the throng of people you’ll be around, someone could whisk you away before anyone even notices! Do you know how many people will be attending?”

“It’s a closed event, if that’s what you mean,” Harry said seriously. “Not just anyone will be invited; monarchy and heirs only. Besides, there will be plenty of guards around to make sure no uninvited guests can enter.”

“I’m just saying,” Louis flipped onto his front, legs swinging in the air behind him, “if there was any time to strike, it would be now. This is real life, y’know? I didn’t just make up that you disappeared out of nowhere.”

Harry frowned, supposing that Louis was right. Though unlikely, he had reached the point where he definitely believed that Louis was telling him the truth about his disappearance. Maybe being unprepared was what got him into that whole “kidnapped and never found again” situation in the first place. But what could they do? The castle was already heavily guarded as it was. And he refused to attend the ball with some burly guard at his shoulder the entire night. 

“What are you proposing, then?” he said slowly.

“I propose,” a small smile crept upon Louis’ lips, “that I attend the masquerade ball in order to keep a special close eye on you.”

A confused smile graced Harry’s lips. “You’re joking?”

“I am not!” Louis insisted, scooting closer to Harry on the bed. “I’ll be wearing a mask the whole night, so I’ll be unrecognisable! And even if the king or queen does recognise me, you’ve already introduced me as your friend! Besides,” he fluttered his eyelashes prettily, “I do love a good party. I’m telling you, this is a good idea.”

Harry considered this. While it would be handy to have an extra pair of eyes around, that would include him having to deal with his mother all night, questioning him about why a non-royal was at their ball, _friendship_ be damned. Not to mention, his father still hadn’t gotten a close enough look at Louis, and he could recognise him in a second. But if Louis were to keep his mask on the whole night. . . he supposed. . . 

“You’d need to get a proper suit and mask, you know. I suppose I could convince my tailor to whisk something up for you. We’d have to be careful — my mother is not to find out.”

“Is that a yes?” Louis sat up on his knees excitedly, eyes twinkling.

Harry tried and failed to hide his smile, heading to his desk to fetch a parchment and ink. “I’ll write him a letter right now to let him know to come early.”

“That’s a yes!” Louis giggled excitedly, hopping up from the bed, to peek over Harry’s shoulder at his letter. “I’ve never been to a ball of any kind before!” he said, awestruck. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

Louis admired Harry’s side profile for a second, thinking about how differently his attitude toward him had changed within the past twenty-four hours. The man he had spent the day with today, who was able to laugh, smile, and act his age, seemed drastically different than the person he had known for the past week. Louis was already growing. . . fond. 

With a smack, Louis placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s cheek before throwing himself back on his bed, raving about what he would wear. Harry couldn’t hear any of it though, thoughts running in circles about the way his lips had felt, face burning brighter than it had ever felt before. 

He truly was fucked, wasn’t he? Damn Niall. 

\- - -

“Ugh it's too early for this shit,” Louis groaned, rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. The tailor smacked Louis arms down lightly, measuring the length of his torso. 

It was now Wednesday, only three days to go until the big night. Needless to say, the tailor had been quite ruffled at the news that he would have to create a whole new suit before Saturday. 

“Well, you just about begged to go. Now stay still and let the poor man do his job.”

“Is there a reason the queen cannot be present for this fitting, my prince?” the tailor asked tiredly. Both Harry and Louis’ eyes widened. 

“She didn't want to come,” Harry said unconvincingly, “This is just for my friend, William. Don't worry, he's plenty royal. Right, William?”

Louis nodded over enthusiastically. The tailor raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Just. . . promise to not tell the queen, alright? I'll even pay you extra,” Harry said desperately. 

“No need, my prince,” the tailor said easily, “I was simply wondering.”

Harry relaxed against the small chair set up in the small room, leaning back to look Louis up and down. “I think perhaps gold would suit him very well. Yes, he would look quite nice. And we would match as well.”

“I actually thought—” Louis butt in, only to be cut off quickly. 

“Indeed, sir. I will make sure a nice gold scheme is made for his frame within the next week.”

Louis pouted. “Do I not get a say in this at all?”

“What colour would you suggest, William dear?” the prince humoured him. 

“Well,” Louis looked down at his body appreciatively, “I was thinking blue could really bring out my eyes.”

As much as Harry would love to see the ocean-like blue of Louis’ eyes pop, it was quite inappropriate for a royal ball. “You would stick out like a sore thumb in blue. And as we have already discussed, you are not to be the center of attention at this masquerade,” he attempted to subtly warn the tailor in the room. “I suggest gold, silver, or red, though red is quite expensive.”

Louis huffed. “Fine. As long as it makes me look pretty, yeah?”

“Darling, you would look pretty if you showed up in a potato sack. You don’t have to worry about not looking pretty, trust me on that one.”

Louis blushed prettily, suddenly very interested with the floor pattern the royals had chosen. The tailor, meanwhile, cleared his throat awkwardly. “That should be all for now, Prince Styles. Mr. Williamson’s suit should be ready by Saturday. Which reminds me,” the tailor shuffled around in his spacious bag before pulling out a thin bag where several items seemed to be stored inside. “Your suit, my prince. You can try it on now, if you’d like.”

The tailor took the plastic protection off of the suit slowly, revealing a pristine, white suit with gold trimming scattered about, creating a very royal look. Louis stepped closer, unable to help himself. “Matching. . .” he whispered. 

“I’ll just, um—” it was Harry’s turn to clear his throat awkwardly, “—I’ll try this on.” Though he had been making subtle advances toward Louis thus far, he didn’t exactly want to make the atmosphere even more uncomfortable by undressing in front of everyone. 

Thankfully, Louis didn’t need any more hints than that. “I’ll. . . catch you later?” he asked shyly, still flustered from earlier. Harry nodded silently, wonderstruck by the light pink adorning Louis’ cheeks. It was only until he shut the door lightly behind him that he realised he made a grave mistake. 

“Wait, I—” Harry looked quickly at the ever-confused tailor, already headed out the door behind Louis before he remembered to call back, “—I’ll be right back!”

The prince exited the small room to find emptiness on either side of the endless hallways. Sighing dejectedly, he noticed a small speck in the distance of a small man heading back to their now shared bedroom. “Louis, wait!” he called, nerves running too high to remember to use his undercover name. 

Louis stopped as Harry caught up to him, turning around, confused. His face lit up with a confused smile as he recognised Harry. “What are you—”

“Be my date to the masquerade ball. I mean—” Harry shook his head frustratedly, not meaning for his question to come out as a demand, “—would you be my date to the masquerade ball on Saturday?”

“What— how do you mean?” Louis asked bemusedly, amusement sparkling in his eyes. 

Harry felt his face heat up even more, feeling as though this was about to be the most embarrassing moment of his short life, “I mean— I’d like you to attend the ball with me, as more than just a. . . security guard,” he cringed at his own choice of words. 

Louis’ eyes lit up, however. “You mean I’ll actually be able to participate in the dancing and eat all the little pastries they put out?”

Harry had a feeling Louis hadn’t understood what exactly he had just put on the line, but he nodded tightly nonetheless. Before he knew it, Louis threw himself into Harry’s arms, wrapping him in a tight hug. “You truly did mean it when you said you wanted us to be friends, didn’t you, Harold? Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

The prince internally groaned at the sound of the word ‘friend’, deciding to change the subject. “If you are to participate fully, I think it’s about time I introduce you to my parents properly.”

Louis pulled back from his hug, both to Harry’s relief and dismay. “What do you mean? Your mother already met me, and the king could potentially recognise me.”

“I don’t care,” the prince shook his head, “I’ll protect you. Meet us for dinner tomorrow, yeah? It’s about time you get a proper meal,” he poked playfully at Louis’ ribs, earning a light giggle. 

The smile faded from Louis’ face, though, being replaced with panic. “I better start getting ready, then! I can’t exactly show up looking like this!” he gestured wildly to his plain everyday clothes. “Good luck with your fitting!” 

With one last light pat on Harry’s cheek, Louis scampered down the rest of the hallway, turning out of sight. In Harry’s desperation to get Louis to notice him, he had possibly gotten them both into the most dangerous night of their lives. 

\- - -

Louis paced the floor of their shared bedroom the next evening, wishing he had at least a mirror to look at himself in. Harry watched him calmly from the bed, growing dizzy as Louis walked back and forth, sometimes stopping to run a nervous hand through his fringe. 

“Would you calm down?” Harry broke the silence at last, watching Louis patiently. “You look perfect.”

Louis scoffed. “Please. You were right yesterday. I stick out like a sore thumb, I’ll be found out within seconds! Back in the dungeons within the next hour! That’s if they don’t kill me first!”

“First of all, I did _not_ say you stuck out like a sore thumb. I said no one else would be wearing blue at the masquerade ball, so you would be the only one wearing that colour, therefore making you stick out.” Harry rose from his spot on the bed to place a reassuring hand on Louis’ shoulder, “Besides, even if they do recognise you, which they _won’t,_ I will personally take the blame. Weren’t you the one who said the king and queen barely glanced in your direction? Nothing will happen to you, I promise.”

“But. . .” Louis looked up at him, worry laced in his eyes, “I don’t want anything to happen to you, either.”

“It’s a good thing nothing’s going to happen then, isn’t it?”

“But—”

Louis’ further worries were cut off by a knock on the door. Not waiting for a response, a voice called through. “Prince Styles, the queen is calling for your appearance at the dining table. Dinner has been served. Come down whenever you are ready, my prince.” And with that, footsteps could be heard walking away. It was showtime. 

Turning to face Louis, Harry held a hand out, offering it to him. Gratefully, Louis accepted as they walked out of the bedroom and down the long spiraling staircase together. His heart began to beat into his throat as he saw the dining room approach. This would be the first time he would be forced to make casual conversation with the king and queen without being able to excuse himself if needed. 

The doors to the dining room were already open, so they didn’t have to bother to open it or let go of each other’s hands. While the king sat at the head of the table, face buried in his meal, the queen sat patiently at his right side, waiting for her son to arrive. She turned in her seat at the sound of footsteps approaching. 

“Harry, it’s about time! How many times must I remind you, punctuality—”

Her face fell into a look resembling a scowl as she noticed Harry was not alone. Without saying a word, Harry sat across from the queen at the table, silently motioning for Louis to sit beside him. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Even the king had sat up from his spot at the table at the sight of another person joining them. 

Louis decidedly did not look at anyone, staring intensely at the empty table before him. He noticed he had multiple versions of forks and spoons. He had read about this somewhere; the upper class had different utensils depending on the type of meal they would be served. Louis only hoped he wouldn’t make a fool of himself by choosing the wrong utensil. 

At the sight of two other people at the dining table, a servant walked out of the thick kitchen doors, holding four platters on a large tray, setting them down accordingly in front of each person. Lifting the lid off of the platter, Louis found it was what he had shown the kitchen staff earlier; grilled cheese. It was only until the door closed behind the servant that someone spoke at last. 

“Thank you for allowing me to dine with you, your majesties,” Louis said meekly, poking his sandwich nervously with a fork. Was it impolite to eat with your hands?

“William, was it?” the queen asked, only sparing a glance at Louis before turning her attention to her son. “When were you planning to tell me we would have company at tonight’s dinner, Harry dear?” Her eye twitched. 

“I figured you would be more than welcoming to a _friend_ of mine, mother,” Harry said calmly, taking bites of his food.

“Yes, well, perhaps you shouldn’t have assumed,” the queen bit back. 

“Talking poorly in front of people is not very _royal of you, mother,_ ” Harry mocked. Louis suddenly felt very uncomfortable, caught up in a family squabble. 

The table went silent for a few minutes, the only sound being utensils hitting their dinner plates.

“Does anyone know what dish this is? I have never seen anything like it before,” the queen said in an attempt to break the tension. 

“I believe I heard something about them trying out a new dish they were recently taught,” the king spoke for the first time.

The queen hummed, displeased with the change in scenery. “I may have to have a talk with them. Always run new dishes past the queen first shall be a new rule. This dish is practically impossible to cut!”

Louis cleared his throat softly, but it was enough for every eye to turn to him. “You’re supposed to eat it with your hands, I believe. Your majesty.”

Harry tried and failed to disguise his laugh as a violent cough. The queen paled. “I shall order them to take this dish off the menu immediately. With your hands, honestly!” she exclaimed.

“William,” the king interrupted, “you look very familiar. How do I know you?”

Though this situation hadn’t exactly been unexpected, Louis’ stomach still dropped. “I— um.”

“He’s a noble,” Harry spoke over him, sensing his impending panic. 

“Is he, now?” the king questioned. With the one statement, both the king and queen seemed to be more interested in Louis than ever. 

“Yes, he— this is Duke Williamson. Duke Williamson of. . . uh...”

“Doncaster,” Louis coughed.

“Duke Williamson of Doncaster,” Harry finished. 

“Never heard of it,” the queen sniffed. 

“Indeed, I’ve never heard of such a place, and I know all the nobles within the country,” the king agreed, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“It’s not exactly a large kingdom,” Louis admitted. 

“Imperials are imperials, I suppose,” the king waved a large hand, surprisingly deciding to let it go.

“ _Yes_ , but imagine the talk if the others found out we invited a little duke boy from who knows where to dinner…”

“Who would find out?” the king snorted at his wife’s antics.

“Maybe if one of the servants blabbed!” she insisted. “People talk!”

“I invited him to the masquerade ball on Saturday,” Harry said loudly. 

The queen’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “You. _What_?”

All the while, Louis began shoveling food down his throat quite impolitely. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well, and he wanted to get food in his stomach while he still could. 

“No offence, William dear,” the queen addressed Louis, startling him, “it’s just a very. . . closed event, you could say,” she closed her statement by aiming a glare at Harry. 

Louis would have replied, but Harry beat him to it. “That’s what I don’t understand, mother. _Why_ must it be so exclusive? I already know all the royals and nobles in England, and they’re all dreadful! Maybe if we opened the ball up to the public I could actually. . . I don’t know. . . meet someone I like?”

The king coughed out a laugh behind his goblet. “You don’t marry for love, son. You marry for power. That’s how it’s worked for as long as you’ve been alive.”

“Maybe I could be the one to change that,” he countered. 

The king and queen gasped dramatically, as though Harry had said something preposterous.

“You’ll marry a non-royal over my dead body,” the queen seethed. 

“Fine,” the prince exclaimed, just as dramatically. Standing up abruptly, a terrible screeching sound could be heard as his chair was pushed back. Louis stood up quickly beside him, uncomfortable at the thought of being left alone with the king and queen. “William will be attending the ball alongside me on Saturday. And if you don’t like it, then— then I refuse to take the crown at all!”

With that, Harry stormed out of the room, Louis following close behind. The last thing that could be heard from the dining room was another round of dramatic gasps from the king and queen, followed by hushed murmuring. The sounds coming from the room soon became indecipherable as Louis climbed up the stairs following Harry, soon making it up to the hallway.

“I just— ugh! It’s so unfair, you know? Why couldn’t they have had another kid?” Harry exploded as soon as they were alone in their room. 

Louis went straight for the king sized bed, allowing himself to relax. He had grown quite fond of Harry’s bed, to be honest, with its fluffy pillows and abundance of blankets. Despite his comfort, Louis was attentive to Harry’s worries. 

“Did you. . . mean it when you said you would refuse to take the crown?” Louis asked tentatively. It was now Harry’s turn to pace the floor of his room, when only an hour before it had been the opposite. 

“I don’t know. . . maybe? At this point, I’m almost hoping my murderer will come along and just do it already.”

Louis sat up on the bed, looking at Harry seriously. “Don’t say that. That’s not funny. You don’t really want that, do you?”

The only response he got was silence. 

“Remember when I told you running away and living a normal life was always an option?” Louis asked. “What if. . .”

“Though the idea has become more tempting than ever, I just don’t see how it’s possible. How can the prince of England run off, not be recognised, and. . . never be found again?”

“But what would the motive be to have you kidnapped or murdered? You don’t have any enemies, do you?”

“No, but you can bet my father does. With me gone, there would be no heir. Then the only person they would need to take down is the king himself. How they would plan on doing that, I have no idea.”

There was a moment of silence as Louis chewed nervously on his lip. “Do you. . . do you know how my time machine is coming along?”

Harry frowned slightly at that, having temporarily forgotten why Louis was here in the first place. He had grown used to Louis’ constant presence, seeing him as a sort of companion, or even a friend. Not to mention, there was a part deep inside of him that longed for something. . . more. 

“I— um. I don’t, actually. We can check up with Payne tomorrow, if you want.”

If Louis noticed any sorrow in Harry’s words at the thought of pushing forward Louis’ return home, he said nothing. “Yeah, alright.”

Another rare spark of idiotic confidence came to Harry suddenly. “Would you— I’ve been thinking—” at Louis’ full attention being returned to him once again, his stomach sank with nerves, “—nevermind.”

Louis made a disappointed sound. “No, what is it?”

It didn’t look as though he would be getting out of this one. He just had to open his damn mouth. “I just was thinking— if your time machine ends up being finished before we figure out what happens with my future— that is if I have one—”

“Harry,” Louis smiled kindly, “I wouldn’t just abandon you like that. Until we figure out whether you were in grave danger or if you just ran away, I’ll be here, alright? I like to think we’re closer than that. After all, we do have a deal,” he winked. 

The prince snorted. “Forget the deal. The deal’s off. We’re just two friends helping each other out now, right?”

Louis’ eyes widened. “Never thought I’d be friends with royalty before! I can’t wait until I get to tell Liam, he’ll be _so_ jealous.”

The joy faded from Harry’s eyes slightly. More talk about Louis' eventual departure was truly being a damper on his mood. “Would you ever consider staying here?” he said quickly, before he could regret it. 

He didn’t have to wait long. “What do you mean?” Louis asked, confused. 

“What if. . . you didn’t leave? And stayed here with me?”

Louis couldn’t resist himself from scoffing. “Why would I do that? Because everyone here has been so nice to me so far?” 

Harry could sense the tensions in the room rising. This was the exact opposite of what he had wanted. “I didn’t mean to insult you, I just— I’ll miss you. When you go.”

Within a second, Louis' facial features softened. “Oh, Harry,” he got up from his comfortable position on the bed, walking over to where Harry stood, “that’s. . . very sweet of you. And I’ll miss you too, when the time comes for me to leave. But don’t you understand? I don’t belong here.” He gestured vaguely around to the extravagant room. 

“What if we ran away together?” Harry said, a wild glint in his eye, “maybe that’s how it was meant to be— we ran off to a distant land and lived happily ever after!”

Louis covered his mouth to hide his giggles. “Are you even hearing yourself right now? _‘A distant land?’ ‘Happily ever after?’_ Really?”

Harry slumped slightly, but laughed along, realising the ridiculousness of his plan. 

“I can’t just leave my old life behind, Harry,” Louis explained with fondness, “I have a job, a family, friends! Liam! I can’t just leave Liam behind, Harry, you have no idea — we’ve been attached at the hip since primary school. I’ll have to tell you more about him someday.”

Harry couldn’t help but wonder if he thought of Liam as more than a friend, with the love in which he was talking about him. Irrational jealousy bubbled inside of him.

“Anyways, I have to go back, Harry. Unfortunately, that means leaving you behind, and I hope you find it in yourself to understand and maybe even forgive me, someday. But if it’s any consolation. . . I will never forget you.”

The bitterness that was once inside of Harry disappeared after Louis’ confession. Though he would be sad to see Louis go, he understood that his hands were tied. “There’s nothing to forgive. I understand.”

Pulling him in for a hug, Harry thought about what Louis said about never forgetting him. But what about all the people Louis had back at home, and all of the advanced technology. Heck, they had _grilled cheese sandwiches_ in the future, and he was just. . . Harry. In that moment, Harry decided he needed to think up a plan to make sure that Louis would truly never forget him and the time they spent together. 

\- - -

Sticking to his promise, the two snuck out of the castle the next day in order to check in with Payne about Louis’ time machine. After a short greeting of allowing them into his small temporary home, Payne was honest with them. 

“I’ve just about got everything ready. All we need now is a power source. I’ll be honest, kid, I’m not sure how we’re gonna get a power source strong enough to be able to travel you centuries into the future.” At Louis’ panicked look, he gave him a weary smile, “We’ll find a way, though, I can promise you that.”

Indeed, while the machine wasn’t as clean and fancy as when Liam had put it together, it looked as though it was as good as it was going to get. It didn’t have the same bright red, futuristic look as before, instead a dull grey-ish colour. Instead of having enough room to fit at least one person comfortably, it looked as though even with just Louis in the machine, it would be a bit uncomfortable. With a rusty door reattached and a small, confined space, there was just enough room for Louis to be able to climb back in and return in one piece. Hopefully, at least. When he told Harry this, he frowned. 

“If it’s too dangerous, you can always stay longer until Payne can figure out a safer way,” he said hopefully. Louis just laughed at him, mussing his hair playfully. 

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. Think about it, you’ll finally have me out of your hair for good,” he had winked. 

Somehow, that thought didn’t sound as good to Harry as Louis made it seem. If anything, it only made him frown deeper. What if Louis really did get hurt on his return back to the future?

It wasn’t until they left Payne’s hideout together, only two days from the ball, that Harry decided to get something off his chest. Perhaps this confession could be the key to stopping Louis returning to his time, and potentially getting hurt. Right before Louis stepped into the daylight and out of the grungy alley, Harry grabbed his hand, stopping him. 

“Louis— I know you said you wouldn’t be staying but—”

“Oh, goodness, Harry, really, this again?” he rolled his eyes without malice. “Listen, I’m touched that—”

“Louis, I— I think I’m in love with you,” Harry spoke over him quickly, closing his eyes shut right afterwards, afraid of what the look on Louis’ face might look like. After a moment of silence, however, he was unable to contain his curiosity any longer. 

The look on Louis’ face was of one of pure shock, mouth hanging open ridiculously. After a beat, he was able to contain himself, closing his mouth into a thin line. His eyes carried sadness as he watched Harry. 

“Harry, I—” he swallowed. “How old are you, again?”

“I’m twenty-five,” his eyebrows knit together, “why does it matter?”

“I’m just making sure you’re not making any. . . rash decisions?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Harry began to get defensive. 

“I mean. . . I don’t think you love me, Harry. I think you’re scared. You’re going to have to be engaged to some random royal you’ve probably never looked twice at within only a few days, and you’ve somehow convinced yourself you’re in love with me because I’m the only one you’ve ever had a real connection with.”

Harry frowned at him, as though he were a combination of hurt and disappointed. “I may not have had many connections because of my title but. . . I know how I feel. If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. That’s all you had to say.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Louis sighed, sorrow seeping into his own features, “I just don’t want you to— to _use_ me so you can get out of your own responsibilities—” 

“Oh, so you think I’m using you, now? And here I thought I might have meant something to you,” he scoffed, anger now coating his words. 

“This isn’t just about _you_ , if you would listen to me!” Louis insisted, growing frustrated. “Who am I to know that you’ll use my knowledge until you know you’re out of the woods and then— I don’t know, expose me to the king!”

It was now Harry’s turn to stare at Louis in silence, mouth hanging slightly open. 

“I didn’t mean that,” Louis sighed, backpedalling quickly, “I just—”

“If that’s how lowly you think of me,” Harry spoke, ignoring Louis’ words, “maybe I will expose you to the king. After all, I’ve already gotten pretty much all I need from you, haven’t I?” he said bitterly. 

Unable to take any further humiliation, Harry headed back to the castle alone, not bothering to wait for Louis to catch up. 

“That’s not what I—”

But Louis was unable to explain, as Harry had already walked too far. Louis felt as though this put him in a difficult position; not only had he potentially ruined his relationship with Harry, but he was unsure if he would even still be welcome in the castle that night. And what if Harry had been serious about telling the king about Louis’ true identity? Then. . . well, he’d be royally screwed. 

At odds with himself and afraid, he decided to do some exploring on his own. But alas, this was the first time exploring the city without Harry since he had arrived. Hopefully, he had learned enough to not get himself in too much trouble. He only wished he had some sort of disguise, thinking about a scenario where the castle guards came bustling out into the streets, searching for an escaped convict by the name of Louis Tomlinson. 

The alley would be his bed for the night, it seemed, the vendors down the cobblestone street being his food income. Though Louis was close to Payne’s greatest grandson, he wasn’t sure how accommodating he would be for him spending the night. After all, he had a small enough place as it was; he’d probably have to fair falling asleep standing up. Even if he would allow him to sleep for the night, once Harry told Payne who Louis really was, would he really want to finish doing a favour for him? Sure, they would have one more thing in common; they were both on the run, but would Payne really want his extra baggage? It was best to stay away from anyone concerning royalty, for now, he figured. 

The sun had only just gone down after hours of wandering helplessly before a small ruckus began to start up, unfortunately starring Louis himself. 

“What do you mean you won’t serve me? I’ve been nothing but a polite citizen!”

“Sir, please, you’re scaring away all my other customers,” the lady behind her display of fruits insisted, with a hint of attitude. “How do you expect me to serve you when you cannot pay me?”

“Fair enough,” Louis sighed, “suppose I’ll just starve to death, then,” he cried dramatically before walking away. The vendor simply rolled her eyes. 

It looked as though Louis would have to unfortunately go to sleep with an empty stomach, heading back into the old alleyway, hiding himself behind a particularly dark shadow so no one would bother him. He only had to lie there for a few minutes before he was bothered, however. 

Dark footsteps approached his body before stopping right at his feet. Disgruntled, Louis sat up, staring at the shadow challengingly. “What? You come to find me yourself? I’m surprised your big tough guards weren’t able to find me themselves. .. not the brightest bulbs in the box, are they?”

“What are you doing?” Harry asked. It was impossible to see the expression on his face through the darkness. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Louis snuggled deeper into the concrete, pretending like he was as comfortable as could be, “I’m trying to get a good night’s rest. What are _you_ doing?”

“You never came back to the castle. . .” a moment passed, “I was worried,” he admitted. 

Louis _hmphed_ , not moving from his spot on the ground. They had both hurt each other, but Harry had betrayed his trust. Louis had promised to stick around until they figured out Harry’s murder mystery together, hadn’t he? Meanwhile, Harry had turned around and done the opposite, threatening Louis with the king himself. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I know it’s shitty of me to have to apologise for something shitty I did more than once, but. I was hurt. And not even because I have feelings for you, it’s— it felt like you were insinuating that I didn’t really care for you at all and— you know that’s not true. You know that, right?”

Louis finally allowed himself to get up from the disgusting ground which — why did he do that in the first place, again? There had to be about a million diseases going on right about now, it was 16th century England. Making a mental note to have another bath later, he turned to Harry. 

“I do. I do know that, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way. We both said things we didn’t mean I just— I accused you of being scared, but really, it was _me_ who was scared.”

“You? Why?” Harry asked, confused. 

“I mean, I obviously feel the same, but how can we pursue such a relationship when I have to leave? It was easy to ignore them, but when you told me you loved me. . . it made those feelings real.”

Harry was pretty sure he was close to having a stroke. _Did he just say. . .?_

“But why,” Harry choked. He took a moment to clear his throat and contain himself. “But why would you make me think you didn’t feel the same? This can work, we can make this work, I just. . . don’t know how.”

Louis chuckled dryly. “We can make our relationship work when we’re centuries apart? It’s not that I haven’t been feeling the same, I. . . I’m touched that you think of me in such a way, and in different circumstances, maybe. . .” he trailed off, but Harry didn’t have to question what that sentence would’ve ended with. 

“How about. . .” Harry took Louis’ delicate hand in his own, squeezing it gently. Testing out what it felt like. To his relief, Louis squeezed his hand right back. His heart jumped in his chest rapidly. Somehow, he found the words to speak. “How about we take advantage of our relationship while we still can? Even if we both know it has an expiration date.”

“Sounds like a heartbreak waiting to happen to me,” Louis said dryly. 

“Yeah, but. . . I don’t really care about the future right now. Do you?”

“Nah,” Louis grinned, squeezing Harry’s hand again. 

Louis stared into his eyes deeply for a moment, almost pointedly. He seemed to be waiting for something. The moment Harry realised what he was waiting for, he had to look away, embarrassed. 

“Um.”

Louis giggled at him. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing, I just. . .” his face had now begun to turn a shade of pink, obvious even in the dark alley. 

“You know what I think, Styles?” Louis teased. “I think you’re a gentleman. A courtly gentleman from the 16th century who isn’t used to moving so fast.” 

Before Harry even realised what Louis just said to him, Louis placed a light kiss on Harry’s cheek, not helping his blushing situation. Louis patted his chest friendfully afterwards, as though they had shared nothing more than a high-five. “I’ll wait for you to be ready,” he said simply, walking ahead of Harry out of the alleyway. 

It took Harry a little longer to catch up, however. Unbeknownst to him, Louis had turned Harry’s entire life around within the time span of a few weeks. How could he ever force himself to fall in love with some other snotty royal when this entity of life and joy was in front of him? 

“Remind me to run myself a bath later? Ugh, I feel disgusting,” Louis grunted at himself. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, touching his cheek in a haze, not having taken in a word Louis had just said. 

\- - -

The morning of the ball arrived much too soon for either of their liking. Harry would doubtlessly be dragged by his mother the whole morning and night, being forced to interact with royals and search for his future queen. Louis didn’t mind, though. He was only there to watch out for any funny business anyways, and the new intent of their relationship wasn’t going to change that. If anything, now he would be even more skeptical of intruders. 

They had decided together that unless Harry went through with running away from home and the crown on a whim, he couldn’t avoid not picking out a queen forever. Besides, if Louis were to leave soon, there was no point in waiting for the king and queen to change their minds on whether Harry could marry a non-royal. He would pick a nice woman or man that understood his situation, or at the very least he got along with. Harry insisted that Louis had nothing to worry about; his future queen may be the one with the title, but Louis was the only one with his heart. 

Louis was very understanding with it all; this was the way it was meant to be. “In another life, we’ll live out our lives together.” That was reassurance enough for both of them. For now, they would take all the time they could get.

Unfortunately, the day of the ball, that wasn’t very long. Louis woke up in their shared bedroom to find that Harry had already left, leaving Louis to bask in Harry’s cold side of the bed, telling him he had been gone for a while. Louis sighed, figuring he should probably start to get ready as well. That was until a knock sounded at the door, an authoritative voice calling out. 

“Open up. I have a message from the royal tailor. He said to make sure this got into the hands of one… William Williamson?” By the end of the stranger's sentence, the voice filled with recognition. “Oh, it’s you! Hurry, the ball is set to begin in less than ten hours!”

Louis’ curiosity grew with the familiarity of the stranger’s tone. He opened the door, not caring that he was still in his loose pajama clothing. Behind the door revealed that one guard, Niall, Louis thinks, who had told Louis off for cooking in the kitchen. In his hands he held a bag that doubtless held his suit that he was to wear tonight. The look on the guard’s face was considerably brighter and more friendly than it had been only a few nights before. 

“Here you go!” he said brightly, handing over the bag. Louis accepted it, looking up at Niall with an expression that could only be described as amazed confusion. 

“Um— thank you,” Louis answered. Even after Louis had received his item, however, Niall did not reply, or even turn to leave, simply staring at Louis with a strange, happy look on his face. “May I. . . help you?” Louis couldn’t help himself by asking. 

“No, I’m fine,” Niall said as brightly as ever, “I just. . . Prince Styles told me about your situation, you know. He’ll find his future queen tonight,” his eyes saddened at his own words, but continued, “and he told me it would be cool if I could help you out during the ball, since he’ll be busy the whole night.”

“And what would I need help with?” Louis questioned, almost offended by Harry’s disbelief in Louis’ ability to watch out for him by himself. 

Niall frowned deeper, as though he were unwilling to speak in the wide open. Despite this, he spoke, albeit faster than he had before, lowering his voice by an octave. “Between you and me. . . the queen is being adamant that you don’t appear at the ball tonight. I’m not sure why, reckon it’s not my business to know,” he shrugged. “It’s my job, according to Prince Styles at least, to get you in and make sure you don’t get thrown out.”

Niall’s explanation both made him happier and yet more nervous. Harry did have faith in him after all, but the queen was now more out to get him than ever. But there was one thing that still didn’t make sense. “Why are you doing this? Helping me?”

Niall simply shrugged his shoulders again. “Prince Styles orders. And. . . don’t tell anyone I said this but,” this time, Niall looked both ways before he continued, “I reckon the castle’s about to go down any day now. Rioting out in the streets, the king even being overthrown,” he shivered at the thought. “It wouldn’t be a good look for me to be the king’s right hand man at this point. Anyways,” he looked around again before throwing Louis a sly wink, “I’ll pick you up at four.”

Well. Louis supposed he had a new date to tonight’s masquerade ball, though it was with about the last person he would have expected. 

Closing the door behind him and lying his bag down on the bed, Louis suddenly became giddy again. He may not ever become the future queen of England, but he could at least look like one. 

True to his word, Niall showed up when he was sure the clock had hit 4 in the afternoon. When Louis opened the door for him for the second time that day, Niall had to take a step back, amazed by his appearance. Indeed, Louis was not disappointed with his suit. Having followed the prince’s instructions, the tailor made a white and gold flecked suit that would have matched up with Harry's perfectly. Already placed over his face, Louis had a gold mask that, if one weren’t looking hard enough, would leave him unrecognisable. 

“Wow,” Niall choked out somehow, “You look. . .”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis brushed him off, closing the door behind him, “let’s get on with it, we’re probably already late.”

Niall scoffed, taking Louis politely by the elbow, all the while mumbling to himself something about “ _some future queen you would be. . .”_

It seemed as though Louis might have had nothing to worry about, however, walking down the long staircase, headed to the vast ballroom that was hardly ever used. Tonight, no one would have to worry about the ballroom being bare. 

Strangely enough, Louis was under the impression that there were only a few royals across the entire country, practically making it impossible for Louis to sneak in unnoticed. Quite the opposite, there were more than just eligible queens attending the ball, tonight. Louis had to cover his mouth in a laugh at all the old men in wrinkled back suits who looked as though they were about to kneel over in death. 

“Do we need an invitation or anything to get in?” Louis questioned quietly as they approached the grand doors. 

“They should see you with me and let us in just fine. Just keep your head down, alright?” Niall said just as quietly. 

Pushing past a large crowd of people all desperate to join in on the festivities, they entered the ballroom without a hitch. In fact, it was almost. . . _too_ easy. Louis briefly wondered where the king and queen were, and if they would be able to recognise every face in the room but his, when he took a moment to take in just how amazingly the ballroom had been transformed. 

Louis now realised why it would be so inappropriate to wear a colour such as blue to such an event; everyone was dressed to the nines in shiny and silvery colours, not one person sticking out of the crowd. The entire ballroom was bathed in a sort of golden glow, appropriately matching his suit. There were already people all about, chit chatting, calling across the floor, dragging others to dance.

But most importantly, there was a table full of snacks. 

Knowing that Niall and Harry would probably both disapprove if Louis were to leave his side, Louis dragged Niall impatiently by his elbow to the snack table, where a small group of people had already gathered around. Excusing himself around them carefully, Louis stuffed a random handful of something into his mouth, turning to a frowning Niall. 

“Shouldn’t you be in a suit and mask as well?” Louis asked impolitely, a crumb hanging by the side of his mouth. 

Niall wiped the side of Louis’ mouth impatiently, dragging him away from the snack table lightly. “No— what?! I’m a guard, I’m not here to party like everyone else.”

The riled-up guard managed to snag the two of them an empty table, pulling out a chair for Louis like a true gentleman before taking his own seat. 

“Thank you,” Louis said politely, “Where is Harry, anyways?” he asked, looking around wildly throughout the vast ballroom. 

“Call him Prince Styles in public, please,” Niall sighed. 

“Look,” Louis looked at Niall pointedly, deciding to get down to business, “I’m here for a reason, alright? You may not understand right now, or know the entire context, but. It’s important that I’m in close proximity to Harry, where I can at least watch how he’s doing.”

Niall said nothing for a moment, looking around, perhaps searching for Harry as well as Louis. “ _Prince Styles,_ ” he stressed, “is somewhere about the ballroom, socialising. Remember we’re supposed to be blending in.”

Louis played with his fingernails idly, already knowing the answer to his upcoming question, “Can I. . . go look for him? Alone? I won’t bother him, I promise!”

“ _William_. . .” he warned. 

“Niall — I didn’t come here to sit around at a table with you the whole night, as wonderful as your company is.”

Niall huffed deeply out of his nose, feeling like this would be a losing fight no matter what. “I’m going to get in so much trouble for this,” he sighed, seemingly to himself, “I won’t go with you, but I will be in close proximity to make sure you don’t get into any trouble. Deal?”

Louis' eyes lit up excitedly. “Deal!”

He didn’t need any more permission than that. As soon as the words passed his lips, he got up from his seat, heading in a random direction. He had to be somewhere in this endless maze of a ballroom, didn’t he? Figuring his best bet of finding Harry was to head to the dancefloor, Louis headed in that direction.

It wasn’t hard to place him once he got to the front of the surrounding crowd, Harry dancing elegantly with a masked stranger. Louis couldn’t even be bothered to think who the masked stranger was, though, too enchanted by Harry’s gold-tinted suit glinting across the hall. Even with a mask covering his face, he was recognizable from a distance; it was hard to misplace him when he held the attention of everyone in the hall. 

Louis didn’t even have it in him to have a hint of jealousy. He knew Harry would not be marrying for love. Besides, he had a job to do. 

Skirting along the edge of the crowd, he looked out for any suspicious characters. But how was he to know what a suspicious character looked like, exactly? Looking around helplessly, he spotted the king and queen at last. At the very front of the room, they both sat on jewel-encrusted thrones, looking out at their son. While the king nibbled on a pastry, looking bored, the queen was clearly scrutinizing the crowd, searching for. . . someone. Louis couldn’t help but think that someone might be him, and that this entire idea of him attending the ball may have been a bad idea, after all. 

Ducking back behind the crowd, he was sure he had lost Niall by now, which he now realised might have been a grave mistake. Niall was his safety, and now he may as well have been naked. Looking back over at the queen, he noticed her call over a buff looking guard— in fact, a buff looking guard that looked suspiciously like the man who had dragged him into the dungeons. The queen whispered in his ear, pointing to a vague direction in the crowd. This couldn’t be good news. 

Finding that the buff guard was heading in his direction, he began walking the opposite way, desperately looking around for Niall. Would it be better to blend into the crowd or run as far away as he could? Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to decide. 

“Your majesty— it’s him! The Tomlinson fellow who threatened the kingdom!” a loud voice shouted above all. 

All at once, the entire ballroom gasped, stopping in their festivities. The orchestra that had been playing in the back corner stopped, the last note ending in an unpleasant _screech._ At the word ‘threaten’ everyone seemed to hold their breath, looking at the king for direction. Louis, however, knew he was in trouble by the sound of his real last name. Though Louis tried to run, all of the crowd seemed to part, making it so everyone, including the king and queen themselves, were able to see Louis clearly. 

Before Louis could even realise what was happening, a guard seized him by the arm, holding him in place, ripping his mask off so that everyone could see his face clearly. 

The king’s face contorted in rage, recognising Louis immediately. “I _knew_ he looked familiar,” the king shouted so everyone could hear. “Guards, have him escorted to the dungeons! We will see that he gets beheaded at once!” he declared. 

_This was happening_ , Louis thought himself, _this was really happening_. He looked around wildly, at the very least wanting to see Harry’s face for a last time before his life ended for good. It was ironic, how the same place where he had started his journey in 16th century England would be the same place it ended. Before Louis could say his last prayers that some miracle could happen, another voice rose out of the crowd. 

“Stop!” a voice that sounded strangely similar to Harry’s yelled out. “Wait!” 

Harry dropped the hand of the beautiful princess whom he had been dancing with, walking through the parted crowd to come to stand right before Louis. He ignored the looks, and the shocked silence, holding a hand out for Louis to take, despite the guards grips on his arms. “May I have this dance?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Louis smiled, if not a little shakily. “You may,” he breathed. 

In his shock, the guards’ grip on Louis’ arm had loosened, causing him to slip away easily, placing his smaller hand into Harry’s own. Attempting to ignore what felt like the entire kingdom’s stare on him, Louis was led onto the grand dancefloor by Harry. Though Louis had no prior dance lessons before that moment, much less in such a professional fashion, Harry led him along as easily as though Louis had been dancing for years. 

Even as the minutes passed of Harry and Louis dancing easily, none of the tense stares wavered, the king and queen both looking as though they were ready for murder. Louis felt a nervous sweat coming on, and not even close to the good kind. 

“Hey,” Harry whispered, soft enough so no one else could hear even in the dead silence that continued, the band doubtless having been ordered to not play under any circumstances, “just look at me. Don’t worry about them.”

Louis hadn’t even realised he had been glancing out across the hall nervously. Maybe it would have been easier if there were at least one friendly face to look out at; even Niall would be welcome at this point, despite their poor first meeting.

“What’s going to happen to me after this?” Louis whispered back, just as quietly. 

Harry’s lips flattened into a serious line. “I. . . I don’t know. I’ll take the blame of course, but. . . I doubt my parents will want anything to do with me ever again,” he sighed. 

Louis frowned at that. “But. . . they can’t just do that, can they? Make you an outcast?”

When Harry said nothing, Louis took that as confirmation of his previous statement. “So. . . what do we do now?” Louis mumbled into his shoulder. 

“I say. . .” Harry leaned down to whisper into his ear, a mischievous smile he had grown all too familiar with gracing his lips, “. . .we run.”

Louis grinned, hoping it wasn’t too obvious to the surrounding crowd what they were up to. “Count of three?”

At that moment, the king rose from his throne, having awoken from his shock, ready to put an end to the insanity once and for all. “This is absolutely enough! I demand you stop at once!” he declared. 

“. . .One. . .” Harry whispered, paying no attention to his father. 

The crowd had struck up noisily again, mumbling amongst each other. “Silence!” the king commanded. “I declare silence at once! Guards — seize the Tomlinson boy at once, and—”

“. . .Two. . .” Louis whispered back, slowly lowering his hands from around Harry’s neck to grab his hand. 

“—have him executed at once! As for the prince,” he spit, “I will have a special punishment in store for him indeed.”

“Three!” 

Holding onto each other’s hands tightly, the two were able to flee the room easily, the crowd still parted, leaving a perfect path to the grand doors. In the distance, they were able to hear the king shouting nonsense, but being drowned out by the absolute panic that had begun amongst the crowd. 

They didn’t stop to look back. They didn’t turn to see if they were being chased. Out of the castle doors they ran, those guards who stayed put outside the royal doors paying them no mind, unaware of what Harry had just done. What he had just given up. 

As the castle began to fade into a mere dot in the background, their faint panting from running began to fade into breathless laughs. Harry tugged them quickly into the dark alleyway in which they would travel into on their visits to see Payne, collapsing against the wall once they were adequately hidden by the shadows. 

They panted heavily before Harry began to laugh breathlessly. Louis turned to look at him, a small smile on his face as well. “I guess we know that I ran away now, then,” Harry breathed. 

Louis smiled wider at the thought that Harry would be safe once he left, before he remembered an important detail. “But. . . you were never found, remember? The whole country’s probably going to be ordered to look out for you.”

“Look at Payne,” Harry reasoned, “the whole town’s out to get him, and he hasn’t been found yet. Maybe I’ll stay with him for a while until it’s safe.”

Louis stared at Harry for a moment, still amazed at what he had just done. He had given up the crown, his family, his freedom, for some strange man he had only known for a little longer than a month who claimed to be from the 21st century.

Without a warning, Louis took Harry’s face gently in his hands, turning him so they were facing each other. Harry only had enough time to give him a confused look before Louis was pressing his lips to his own. Despite his initial shock, Harry melted into the kiss quickly. 

All too soon, Louis pulled away. Harry placed a gentle hand on Louis’ cheek, as though to convince him to kiss him again. With his eyes nearly popping out of his head in shock, Harry was about to voice his thoughts. Instead, what ending up coming out was:

“Wh— why did you. . . what?” Harry stammered stupidly. 

Louis giggled at him softly. “That was for sacrificing your future for me, you absolute dolt,” Just as quickly as Louis had kissed him, he aimed a soft punch on his arm. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Harry rubbed his arm softly, though the punch hadn’t hurt. “I— they were going to take you away. Throw you in the dungeons and kill you. I had to stop them. You would’ve done the same for me,” he shrugged. 

“I would have,” Louis sighed, “but that doesn’t mean you should have. Who knows how much longer I’ll be in your life and— you sacrificed the rest of your life, your future, for me!”

All this time, Louis kept waiting for the sudden realisation to hit Harry, for him to start panicking, realise that sacrificing everything for Louis wasn’t worth it, after all. Instead, a content smile graced Harry’s lips. “You’re worth it, though.”

And in that moment, Louis’ entire demeanor softened. Who knew it would take being trapped in a malfunctioning time machine to find the love of his life. “I love you, you know that?” Louis admitted. 

If Harry’s eyes were popping out of his head before, it was nothing compared to that moment. A large smile exposing all of his teeth appeared. “Really?!” 

Louis giggled at him, standing up from his spot on the ground slowly, as to make sure no attention was brought to them. In a haze, Harry rose beside him. “Really. I guess it’s about time we visit Payne now, yeah? Considering last time we saw him, he said he was almost done, and, well. We really have no place to go now, do we?”

Louis turned to walk down the alleyway that he practically had memorised by now, but not before Harry caught him by his arm, causing Louis to look back at him. 

“Hey,” Harry said, a shy grin on his face, “you know I love you too, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis sighed happily, “I know.”

\- - -

The door to Payne’s hideout opened with a grunt and a shove. With a billow of smoke, the man’s wild face appeared. 

“Finally, you’ve made it! Come in, come in, quick!”

For the first time, Louis hesitated at his command to enter. “Are you sure it’s safe to be breathing all of that in?”

Payne scoffed unconvincingly. “Please, a little smoke never hurt nobody.” At Louis’ frown, his shoulders sagged. “Fine, don’t come in! You’ll have to be quiet standing here, though. Louis — your machine looks as good as done. I reckon we should move the machine out into the open so that it doesn’t explode my little home here; I have no idea what kind of reaction it could have to its environment.”

“Explode?” Harry frowned. 

“But how will we move the machine out into the open without anyone noticing?” Louis added. 

“Look,” Payne huffed at their questions, “my little hidey hole here isn’t far from the edge of the woods, right? Now, I reckon if we do it early enough—”

“Wait, we’ll have to _carry_ it?” Harry whispered frantically. “How big is this thing, exactly?”

“Eh. . .” Payne looked awkward for the first time, “just about as large to fit a human person? It’s not as heavy as it looks, I promise you!” he added quickly. “As for the way we’ll get the energy. . . you’ll understand once you see why I didn’t want this done in my hidey hole.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Louis raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Look up,” Payne ordered. The sky looked the same as it ever did, if not a little clouded by the heavy amount of smoke rising up from Payne’s open door. If there was one thing that was missing, it was the bright stars that Louis sometimes liked to look up at, reminding him that the same stars were probably shining back at home. But as Louis looked closer, he found the smoky sky wasn’t all from Payne’s contraption; those looked like dark, stormy clouds, preparing for a powerful storm the next day. Perhaps even. . . a lightning storm. 

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying are you?” Louis suddenly felt panicked. 

“Have you got a better idea?” Payne reasoned desperately. “You didn’t give me much to work with, lad!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Harry asked, still not having caught on to Payne’s plan. 

“I’ve got a nice piece of metal ready to attach to the machine when it’s ready, so it’ll attract plenty of energy, that elekrictee of yours,” Payne nodded along to his words, as if to convince himself it was a good idea. 

“Wait,” Harry suddenly realised, “you’re not really thinking—” he looked to Louis quickly, who frowned, confirming his suspicions, “—he could be killed!”

“Have you got a better idea?” Payne asked again, more frustratedly this time. 

“It’s fine, Harry,” Louis laid a calm hand on his shoulder, “he’s right. At the very least, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll be out of your hair for good either way, yeah?”

Harry frowned, not finding Louis’ weak attempt at a joke amusing. 

At this point, a significant amount of smoke had cleared, rising up from the cracks in the alleyway. Louis idly hoped it hadn’t brought too much attention to their area. “I suppose we’ll have to come inside at some point, unless we want to sleep on the ground,” he sighed. 

Inside the stuffy room they went, finding that indeed, not much had changed from the last time they had visited. The machine now took up more than half of the space in the tiny room, leaving just enough space for two small sofas shoved in the corner. 

“I suppose I’ll just try and get a head start on moving the machine? Make more room in this place for the three of us. Wasn’t expecting company, that’s all,” he grumbled uncomfortably. With a huff, Payne began tugging at the machine weakly, surprisingly making pretty good time. “Make yourselves comfortable, I suppose,” he added as he managed to get the machine out the door. 

Indeed, without the machine, it had cleared a great space of room. That being said, there wasn’t much else in the space but the two sofas; Louis figured he must have gotten to get rid of a great deal of things in order to not only afford pieces, but also to make room. A flash of pity came across him. 

Apparently, the same frame of mind had not occurred to Harry. “So,” he swallowed, “this might be our last night together.”

“Yeah,” Louis frowned, shrugging his shoulders, “Promise you’ll be safe here by yourself, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but,” Harry wiped his sweaty palms, “I was thinking, um. Maybe we could take advantage of being alone?”

Louis nearly choked on his own spit, quite unattractively he might add, looking at Harry with wide eyes. “Are— are you sure?”

Harry took a step closer, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I suppose we could call it a bit of revenge for Payne putting you in such danger tomorrow.”

“I suppose we could,” Louis snorted. “Come here then, idiot.”

Before Louis could even give Harry a chance to move, Louis flung himself into his arms, tugging him by the shirt onto the nearest sofa. It was then that he realised that they were still in their fancy ballroom clothes. 

“Don’t reckon you have a change of clothes on you?” Louis asked absentmindedly, making himself comfortable lying down on the couch. 

“Wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind when we were running away from security, no,” Harry replied, attempting to take off his obnoxious clothing. 

“Did I ever mention how hot that was of you?” Louis asked casually, tearing off his too-tight shoes. 

“You mean I should do wild romantic gestures for you more often? Duly noted,” Harry said while taking off his coat with too many buttons. 

“Harry,” Louis stopped him once he was left in only his shorts, taking his hand in his own. “Does Payne— _god_ I’m really hoping the answer to this is no, but—does Payne have oil?”

Harry winced at the image of the old man doing the dirty, but lifted himself from the sofa anyways, unfortunately not having to search far; the bottle was on the couch adjacent to the one they were on. 

The couple made similar disgusted sounds, but nonetheless got back to the task at hand. 

“Suddenly I’m not in the mood anymore,” Louis joked weakly. 

“Yeah? How about we fix that?”

Harry shucked the rest of his outfit off at last, revealing his hard cock at last.

“Oh,” Louis breathed, absentmindedly sliding the rest of his outfit off as well, “yeah, that works.”

Indeed it did. Louis was sure he had no need to worry whether he would be getting off at all tonight; Harry sure had plenty to offer.

In their desperation and worry that Payne could return to the room at any moment, Harry wasted no time in slicking up his fingers, promptly sticking one inside of Louis.

Louis gasped out at the intrusion, attempting to stay as still as possible without causing a mess until three fingers had been slicked up, stretching inside of him

Being satisfyingly filled to the brim, Louis suddenly felt very empty when Harry removed his fingers. He didn’t spend much time dwelling on it though, heart rate increasing. He knew the best part had yet to come.

It wasn’t long until Louis was being impaled on Harry’s cock, gasping out in pleasure, a symphony of sounds made up of grunts and moans filling up the once empty space.

Their shared moment of physical intimacy went well into the night, all thoughts of tomorrow’s problems and consequences abandoned.

\- - -

Predictably, London woke up to black, cloudy skies the next day. Rumbles of thunder and impending lightning echoed throughout the city. On a usual day, the wealthy would be staying inside,sending out servants to do their bidding, cancelling plans to stay inside their lavish homes, perhaps reading by a roaring fire. The not as fortunate, however, would probably usually be preparing for the oncoming pouring rain, running into the streets to fetch some much needed materials, such as that nights dinner or an extra layer of clothing or two, as the nimble doors would never be enough to keep out the ruthless wind.

On this day, however, the weather didn’t scare as many as it usually would. After all, it was quite an unusual day. 

It had not taken long for the news to travel; Prince Harry had gone missing. The shocking news of the fact that their future king had gone rogue, possibly kidnapped and murdered, had sparked the town into outrage. An official order from the crown had been sent out to find the prince immediately, with help being appreciated from all citizens of England, rich or poor. 

This, however, seemed to be the breaking point for the citizens of London. If the king and queen couldn’t even protect their own son, the future king, from attack, how could they possibly believe that they would be able to protect their country?

Instead of focusing their attention on finding the lost prince, the streets of London had turned into pure chaos. Citizens, rich and poor, beat at the gates of the kingdom, commanding they all get a chance to speak to the royalty. _‘We want answers!’_ they screeched. On the streets, stands were being thrown over, houses set on fire, horses running loose. Even the guards of the highest power in England found it hard to control, running around like chickens with their heads cut off. 

The king and queen, in the meantime, were torn about what to worry about first; their son or the downfall of their kingdom? Whilst they were both ready to push the lost prince to the back of their minds, convincing themselves that he was a traitor, how would that look to the people? They couldn’t exactly tell the citizens of London that their son had run off with some— some peasant! The humiliation they would face! But was it worth losing the crown altogether?

Meanwhile, somewhere in a dark alley, shoved into a hole in the wall, the lost prince and peasant boy in question slept on, unaware of the happenings in the outside world. That was, until. . . 

_BANG!_

Louis awoke with a jerk, sitting up from his spot on Harry’s chest, where he snoozed on. Looking around the room drowsily, it looked as though the two of them were still alone, which was strange, considering Payne should have been back hours ago. He had a bad feeling about this, having a feeling that the big booming sound that had woke him up had something to do with it. 

In fact, Louis was surprised it had taken so long for the big booming sound to wake him up; even from their secluded, dark place in the alley, Louis could hear the commotion happening from the London streets. Listening hard, he heard screams, the sound of deafening cannons being fired—that must have been what woke him up, Louis thought—and vague chants that he couldn’t quite make out through the walls. He figured Harry’s disappearance must have something to with it, but the prince going missing couldn’t possibly cause the entire country to dissolve into insanity. . . could it?

Louis rose from the couch, figuring he could take a peek outside to see exactly what was going on, but someone beat him to it. With a loud bang that rivaled the sound of the cannon going off, Payne burst into the room from the outside, closing it quickly behind him. He was panting, out of breath, as though he had had to fight his way back, or run very quickly. At the very least, he had succeeded in waking Harry up from his slumber. 

“What happened? What’s going on out there? Are you okay?” Louis panicked, trailing Payne as he snagged a rag to rub over his sweaty face. 

“Wha happen?” Harry echoed from the couch, still half asleep. 

“You”—Payne rubbed a frustrated hand over his face—“you have created the apocalypse out there, lad! It’ll be a miracle if anyone makes it out of here alive, and I’m not even talking about your fancy machine!”

Louis’ eyes widened considerably. “People are dying?! What’s happened since we left?!”

Payne plopped next to Harry on the couch, shoving his sleep-ridden body out of the way so he had room. “Long story short. . . the current royalty—your parents, Harry—will be overthrown by the end of the week, I have no doubt about it.”

Now that seemed to get Harry’s attention. He sat up, turning to Payne, considerably more awake than before. “Wha. . . because of me?”

“Of course, because of you, you fool!” Payne exclaimed passionately, rising from his seat, pacing the floors. “It’s not entirely your fault, of course; I’ve been predicting this for months, the townspeople getting sick of the king’s childish ways and rioting in the streets. Your disappearance seems to have been the breaking point, though. What kind of king loses track of his only prince, lets someone take him away, easy as that? Not a powerful one, that’s for sure!”

“But that’s not what I—” Harry swallowed, deep in thought. In that same moment, he seemed to make a decision. “—I have to go back, don’t I?”

“What?!” 

It was now Louis’ turn to shove Harry slightly so he could fit beside him on the couch, looking at him seriously. “What— why would you think that was a good idea? The king and queen — they need you now, but they’ll never forget what you did back at the ball. Perhaps making you take the spot of royalty will be your punishment, because they know it’s the last thing you want!”

“My life was miserable before, anyways,” Harry sighed, having made his mind up already, “this was my chosen fate from the day I was born. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Let the kingdom go up in flames?”

Louis was unperturbed. “It’s what Payne said, the kingdom going up in flames has been a work in progress for years now. What, you think you’ll just show up at the castle gates and everyone will go back to their homes peacefully?”

“No,” Harry scowled, knowing that Louis was only looking out for him but not liking his attitude, “but maybe it could be a start. Maybe. . . I could take the crown before it’s proper time, if the kingdom would allow it.”

“But maybe,” Louis’ eyes widened, giving him a slightly crazed look, “that puts you in even more danger. After all, being in a position of power right now puts a huge target on your back. Maybe that’s— that’s how you disappeared!”

Harry couldn’t help it; he laughed, causing a scowl to make its way onto Louis’ face. “Louis, the time I disappeared is right now! People are looking for me _right now._ Can’t you see? The moment of truth has already happened. This could be my moment to change history; make things right!” he sighed. “I think in a different timeline, I probably would’ve stayed here, hidden, until all the excitement died down, but. I think I’m ready for this. And it’s all thanks to you,” he smiled hesitantly. 

Louis’ scowl was replaced by one of confusion. “Me?”

“Without you, I don’t think I would have ever been brave enough to step out of my comfort zone, stand up to my mother — pull that stunt at the ball!” he laughed at the memory. “I don’t think running away and staying hidden forever is the brave thing to do. I think going back and facing the consequences that I helped achieve is the brave thing to do.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Harry’s expression one of acceptance, Louis’ expression one of fear and impending grief. Despite how terrified Louis was for Harry’s safety, though, deep down, he knew it was the right thing to do as well. Louis was about to voice this thought when Payne spoke, thereby ruining the moment. 

“I moved the time machine to the edge of the woods yesterday, where no one could see or hear. Right now, when everyone in town is distracted and rioting, would be a perfect time to get going.” At the two glares that were sent his way, Payne cleared his throat awkwardly, inching towards the door, “I’ll just be waiting over here whenever you’re ready. By all means, take your time,” he rolled his eyes, “not like anything important’s going on or anything.”

Once they were finally alone again, Louis turned to see that Harry was already looking at him. Louis bit his lip, not wanting to end things on such an awkward note. “I really. . . should be going,” he said quietly. 

“Right, yeah,” Harry nodded too easily to be genuine. “I can um— I can see you off, if you want? Or at least walk you there. To make sure, um. You get there alright.”

Louis snorted, though his fondness couldn’t last long, knowing this would be one of the last moments he would spend alone with the boy. “Yeah, sure. So I get there alright. No other reason.”

\- - -

It turned out when Payne said he had a safe way to get to the woods without being caught, that meant “run as fast as you can and punch anyone who gets in your way”. That was also the moment when Louis realised that Payne was hiding from the castle guards for a very valid reason. 

Payne stressed that they wouldn’t even look strange considering that everyone else in town was running around as well, but Louis countered that with the prince going missing, three random robed strangers would look mighty suspicious, especially if Harry wasn’t disguised well enough. Payne grunted at that, but handed over an oversized coat, a tattered blanket, and a large hat over to Harry anyways. In order to help Harry’s disguise, Louis took the tattered blanket and tied it around Harry’s head so it covered his mouth and nose. 

“Like a mask,” he had said easily, while Payne and Harry shot him strange looks. 

After a little more convincing that Harry’s disguise would _totally_ work—Louis was a drama teacher for goodness sake and he was very familiar with costumes and disguises, thank you very much—they went down the path that led them out of the alleyway and into the London streets. From the moment they had stepped out of Payne’s hiding spot, the noises were loud, but as they got closer to the action and into the streets themselves, they found that the noise wasn't the only thing bad about the riots. 

If the grungy London streets were bad before, they were nothing compared to now. Stands where beggars would sell their goods were upturned, littering the streets with broken wood and miscellaneous items such as fruits. Some of the stands had even been set on fire, an ominous dark smoke rising from the still roaring flames. Some of the homeless or poor who had lost their homes due to the riots huddled themselves around the fires for warmth. Louis caught the eye of one person warming themselves by the fire and looked away quickly. 

If Harry hadn’t agreed to help him that one night in the prison cell, that could have very well been him, he thought guiltily. There was no time to help anyone, though, he convinced himself, holding on tight to Harry’s hand so they wouldn’t get separated. 

It didn’t end there, though; while there was the helpless, there was the angry. While Louis had seen himself how many guards the kingdom had on hand, it still wasn’t enough to deal with the entire population of London. As they made their way quickly through town, they witnessed a large man with nothing but a dinner knife go up against three larger guards with much more lethal weapons. 

Louis chose to keep his head down for the rest of their walk, looking away quickly as he watched one of the guards easily knock the man’s only weapon out of his hands. 

Thankfully they didn’t have to walk much further before the cobblestone beneath their feet began to turn into mossy grass. Above them, the sky rumbled, a light sprinkle showering down above them. In the distance, a quick flash of light appeared in the sky. It was almost time. 

True to his word, Payne had dragged the time machine to the edge of the woods, close to where Louis had landed not that long ago. It was funny to think that it would all end the way it had all begun. 

They walked until they stood right in front of the machine that looked as beat up and sad as ever. On the bright side, it would be enough to bring Louis back home. On the dark side. . . 

Seemingly thinking the same thing as Louis, Harry squeezed his hand in his own. This was it. This was where Harry would have to leave him behind, walk away to take his responsibility as the next king and forget anything had ever happened in these odd few weeks that Louis had been in his life. 

Appropriately, the rain began to hail down harder, going from a drizzle to proper drops falling down, wetting the ground and their clothing. Distantly, yet closer than before, a quick flash of lightning lit up the sky before disappearing as soon as it had appeared. 

“Well,” Payne broke the tense silence, creating a racket by fiddling around in a bag that had been slung beside the machine. “I reckon it’s about time we start attracting the storm our way.” From inside the bag, he extracted a large hunk of metal that rose at least ten feet into the sky. Carefully, he attached the large metal rod into an empty socket where electricity held together by wires would usually be. 

“Hopefully this works,” he sighed once he finished. “Whenever you’re ready, Louis. The storm should be headed our way now, at least.” Payne looked away after saying this, pretending to be fiddling with the machine to give them an illusion of privacy. 

Louis took this as his cue to say his last goodbyes to Harry. Harry had already ripped the tattered blanket off his face, waiting for Louis to turn to him before enveloping him in a large hug. Louis squeezed him back easily, throwing his arms over his shoulders. For a moment, they held each other in silence, appreciating the moment while they had it, knowing after this they would have no other chances to showcase their love to each other. 

It was only when another rumble echoed through the sky, a lightning bolt headed significantly closer to their location, that Louis broke them apart, replacing his hands to be back in Harry’s. 

“I—” Louis thought quickly, unsure what to say. What _was_ there to say that they hadn’t said already? “Be careful out there, alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry was doing that thing where he was nodding too quickly to seem genuine again, “you too.”

Louis could feel tears welling up in his eyes, blinking them away angrily. “I swear, Styles, if I go back to the future to find that nothing’s changed and you’re still a part of a missing prince mystery? I’m coming back just so I can kill you myself,” he joked halfheartedly. 

“Trust me, I believe you,” Harry grinned. “If you end up dying in some lightning bolt accident, because _god_ is this a dumb idea. . .” he huffed, “I’ll run this kingdom even harder just to spite you.”

Louis laughed at Harry’s lame joke. “It’s a terrible idea, but the only way I’ll be able to get home.” Harry opened his mouth, as though to intrude, but Louis beat him to it. “No, before you ask again, I’m not staying here, Harry.” 

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Had to at least try. The last time I ask could be the first time you say yes.”

“Deep,” Louis rolled his eyes. 

It was now raining harder than ever, Louis soaked to the bone and shivering while Payne hid amongst the trees, still pretending he couldn’t hear their conversation. 

“Here,” Harry took off his large coat, handing it over to Louis. 

“But. . . this is yours. And I’m about to leave soon, anyways. Really, it’s fine,” Louis protested, attempting to hand it back. 

“No, please,” Harry insisted, “it can be. . . a reminder. So you won’t ever forget me. Hopefully.”

Louis blushed faintly, shrugging the coat over his shoulders. “Could never forget you. And if that’s how you feel, then. I need to give you something to remember me as well, don’t I?”

“Please,” Harry scoffed, “couldn’t forget you even if I tried. Besides, now I know fancy words from the future like. . .” his face twisted in thought, “nobil phone. And now I know how to make a new dish like. . . grill and cheese.”

Louis giggled at him fondly. “You would never survive a day in the 21st century, you know that?”

“You mean that wasn’t right?” Harry asked cluelessly. The look on Harry’s face only made Louis laugh harder. 

“I’d teach you all about the future, if we had the time,” Louis bit his lip sadly. 

“We can have forever, if you want,” Harry shrugged again. “The rest of our lives, sitting out here by the edge of the woods. I could even build us a little cabin for when the weather gets too cold.”

“That sounds lovely,” Louis admitted, looking out into the woods. Louis remembers thinking, when he had first arrived here, that the woods looked scary, what with unknown creatures dwelling inside. Here, in this light, however, with Harry by his side, it looked a lot like paradise. 

Thunder rumbled throughout the city, louder than ever, before a lightning bolt appeared that had to be only miles away. In an instant, it was gone. But both Harry and Louis knew what it meant. Only Payne seemed brave enough to say what they were all thinking aloud. 

“If you want any chance of getting back to your time, you should enter the machine now, my boy. Lightning don’t strike twice!”

Louis turned to Harry quickly, adrenaline spiking. “I— I guess this is it.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “I should go. Before you leave for good, I mean. If anything were to go wrong—”

“I understand,” Louis interrupted, not unkindly. “Everything will be fine, I promise, but. I wouldn’t want you witnessing my potential death either.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” Harry repeated, attempting to convince himself. “I—”

Back down in London, it sounded as though another cannon went off. Louis didn’t even want to think about what they were being used for. 

“Go,” Louis said as Harry opened his mouth. “Save the country,” he smiled bittersweetly. “This isn’t a goodbye. Let’s just say. . . I’ll see you later.”

Harry snorted, though his eyes read nothing but sadness and unshed tears. “I’ll see you later.”

Refusing to say goodbye, Louis turned around so that he did not have to watch Harry leave. He knew he was gone, though, when Payne silently rose his eyebrows at him. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for. But if this was the moment he had so anticipated, why wasn’t he happy?

Louis opened the rusty door of the time machine, doing his best to avoid Payne’s pitying looks. Closing the door behind him, he’s forcibly reminded of just how uncomfortable and suffocating it was in the small space. Making a mental checklist, Louis realised that his bag of things; his schoolwork, his notebooks, his everything, was still cooped up in the castle. The only thing that had been a constant while in this drastically different century was his mobile phone hidden deeply in his pocket.

The sound of the rain pittering hard against the machine was a nice background noise to Louis’ thoughts. If he listened hard enough, he could even hear the approaching sound of thunder. The only thing to do now was wait. 

Louis allowed himself to think of Harry one last time while still in the same century as him. In possibly only minutes, Louis would be safe, alive, and back in his own century while Harry, well. He would be dead either from old age or from a lifelong mystery that still wouldn’t be solved, despite all the time Louis spent with him. 

The thought of the Styles mystery had him thinking some more because, really, it still didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t be as simple as in a different timeline, Harry stayed hidden all the rest of his life and never got caught. There was never a body found, for goodness sakes! How do you stay hidden even in death, if that was indeed what had happened? 

Louis had a strange feeling, like he was missing out on a vital piece of the puzzle that if he just found the piece to, he would be able to figure everything else out. 

And then it hit him as hard as if he had been punched in the face.

_The century-long Styles mystery. The prince never wanted to take the crown. Disappearance. Never seen again. No explanation. No body was ever found._

_You would never survive a day in the 21st century._

Within a second that it had dawned on him, Louis shoved his way out of the machine, looking around wildly. He had to be quick; Harry was on his way to the castle right now, and Louis would have to run if he hoped to catch up. 

Payne’s concerned face appeared around the corner. “What do you think you’re doing, boy? Don’t you know the lightning’s set to strike any minute now?” his face dropped. “Haven’t got cold feet now, have you?”

Louis only spared Payne a glance, talking very quickly, “No, I just— I’ll be back!”

And with that, Louis took off down the grassy fields, looking out for a soaking wet curly head. The grassy ground that once seemed like a very short walk now seemed to be miles long. Desperately whipping his head left and right, Louis feared he may have realised too late, and that Harry had to already be halfway to the castle by now. 

It was only when Louis met the spot where the grass turned into cobblestone where his sprint turned into a walk, then turning into a stop. It was risking too much to go into the London streets again; if either one of them got recognised, they would both be dead. 

The end of the city seemed to only be full of those who were attempting to hide and wait out the chaos, crouching beneath old benches, occasionally shooting Louis an odd look for fearlessly standing in the middle of the street. Louis paid them no mind, though, giving one more fruitless look around before turning back around, thinking to himself that at the very least, Harry would be able to live out his life a living and healthy man. 

Louis placed one foot on the now rain-soaked grass when a voice made him stop in his tracks. 

“Louis?”

Atop a small hill where a medium-sized rock sat, Harry looked over the city, seemingly deep in thought, before he spotted Louis. Unsurely, he had risen from his spot on the rock, staring dumbly from atop the hill, as though he could not believe his eyes. Louis, relieved beyond belief at the sight of Harry, ran toward the small hill, practically throwing himself into Harry’s arms. 

Harry patted him lightly on the back, not sharing his enthusiasm, still in a slight state of shock. This made Louis pull back, a permanent relieved smile on his face, looking him up and down before asking the burning question. “What are you still doing here? I thought—”

“I couldn’t leave without— without knowing if you were okay,” Harry breathed, seemingly as relieved as Louis was. “I was about to go back up in a few minutes to check if you were still there— wait.” A confused frown replaced the smile on Harry’s face. “What are _you_ still doing here?”

Louis gasped excitedly, remembering his mission for coming down here in the first place. “Harry! I— I know the reason why you disappeared and were never found again!” he exclaimed, practically bursting with excitement. “It’s because— you came with me!”

This was apparently just as shocking news to Harry, his mouth promptly falling open in shock. It wasn’t long before a hesitant smile appeared on his face, unable to fully believe it just yet. “You think so?”

“Think about it!” Louis grinned. “It makes sense! The reason why you were never found was because you left, but it wasn’t because you ran away to live with Payne for the rest of your life,” he scoffed. “It was because you ran away to be with, well,” he blushed, “the love of your life in a different century.”

The contagious grin began to appear on Harry’s face as well. “But. . . what about my family? My responsibilities?”

Louis took Harry’s hands into his own, looking into his eyes seriously. “Harry, be honest with me right now. Are you happy here? Do you truly believe that your parents care about your well being?”

“Maybe at one point,” Harry shook his head, “but. . . if they ever did, it’s long gone now. They only care about power and keeping the royal bloodline.” he sighed, as if disappointed in the people he thought his parents were. “If they really cared, they would have let me marry someone I actually loved.”

“Exactly. Listen— my friends and family are all super nice, and I know they’d love you. What do you say?” Louis asked, eyes full of hope. 

Harry let out a bit of an insane laugh, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening. “This is mental. This is insane. I’m about to travel centuries into the future. Is this really happening right now?”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Louis grinned at him brightly before grabbing his hand, pulling him along as he ran back up to where Payne and the machine was. “We have to hurry! The storm is on its way!”

Under regular circumstances, this would probably be a moment to panic, to say things you didn’t mean due to the immense pressure you were under, to drop anything to be able to get your task done in time. In this situation, however, Harry and Louis ran together, laughing like children, acting like they had all the time in the world. And maybe, in a way, it was because they did, no matter what the outcome was. 

The grass beneath their feet had now turned to mush, causing their boots to get muddy, even slipping a few times. When they ran back up the endless hill back up to the time machine, they were able to see Payne’s outraged face. They skidded to a stop in front of him, dirtying his already tattered and dirtied pants. 

Payne looked about close to hitting him. “Styles— what are you doing here?! Is this why you decided to run off right before the storm is set to hit? You’ve not finished with your teary goodbyes?” 

“He’s coming with me,” Louis admitted, the smile having not left his face for what felt like hours. 

If the couple expected Payne to try and convince Harry to stay, to not leave his old life behind, they were sorely mistaken. 

Payne shrugged his shoulders, looking very unimpressed. “Okay. Couldn’t have made that decision, I don’t know, ten minutes ago?” 

Louis looked at him, feeling a flash of pity and admiration for a man. He did all of this for some crazy stranger he had never met, after all. “I’ll tell your great-great-great-great-great-grandson you love him?” he tried. 

Payne stared at them a moment before rolling his eyes. “Get in, then. Don’t expect me to feel bad if the two of you get fried to death!”

Louis simply laughed at him while Harry rolled his eyes. Only moments later, a dark rumble of thunder echoed throughout the city. His laugh cutting off abruptly and face filling with panic, Louis dragged Harry into the machine with him. After shutting the door, it was quite a squeeze; there was barely any room in there when it was just Louis, so with two people, they were practically suffocating. 

Louis pushed Harry slightly away so he had room to access the buttons. Luckily, Payne hadn’t had much trouble figuring out what each button’s function should be. He had explained countless times that once the lightning struck, they would have only moments to press the large red button stuck on the center of the dashboard. He had taken care of everything else, he had assured, saying that this machine he had made was manufactured to make a one-way trip to 2020. Whether that was true or not would only show in time. 

After making sure that everything was how it should be, Louis turned to Harry shyly. “This is it, then.”

Harry took a deep breath before speaking. “Louis, I just want you to know that if this is the last time I ever get to see your face, I love—”

“Hey,” Louis cut him off before he could finish, “don’t think like that. The storm is going to hit the machine, I’m going to hit that button, and we’ll be transported back to my time. When we get there, the first thing I’m gonna do is introduce you to my best mate Liam. He’s a bit of a dork, but you’ll love him, I know it.”

This seemed to put Harry in a better state of mind, though there was still a small furrow between his eyebrows. 

“But for the record,” Louis continued after a dramatic couple seconds, “I love you too.”

That seemed to placate Harry at last, his expression smoothing over, giving Louis a sweet smile. He didn’t get a chance to reply, though, before Payne’s voice was yelling through the machine. 

“I reckon the storm’s going to hit in about fifteen seconds! Be ready to push that button while I—uh—run as far away as possible! Good luck!”

All of the air in the small space they were shoved in seemed to become thicker. They had at least ten seconds now as they both stood in tense silence, waiting. 

Eight seconds. Louis grabbed Harry’s hand, squeezing it tightly, wishing for the bravery to get through this. 

Five seconds. Harry squeezed his hand back, lovingly rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. 

Three seconds. Louis poised his hand over the button, waiting for the right moment. 

One second. Louis squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation and fear. 

With a large crack that sounded like it was coming from the inside of Louis’ brain, the machine came to life. It was nothing like what it had looked like when Liam had showed it off in front of the school audience; Louis was only able to tell that it was active and working because of a very dim light that must have still been there from when Louis had landed weeks ago. 

Ignoring the ringing in his ears and Harry, who was curiously examining the dim light bulb, Louis slammed his hand down on the red button quickly before he could pass out from the exhaustion that had suddenly taken over his body. There was one thing that hadn’t changed with the machine from the last time he had used it, though. 

With a violent shake, Louis practically fell into Harry, who thankfully caught him as the dim light bulb began to periodically go in and out. 

“What’s going on?!” Harry yelled over the sound of the machine’s whirring, clearly a second away from panicking. 

“It’ll be over in a mo’,” Louis said weakly, holding onto Harry from his stomach, sure that if he wasn’t he would either be passed out or throwing up violently. 

The machine now began to shake more violently than ever, picking up steam, the lone lightbulb flashing in and out making Louis feel more dizzy than ever. Similarly to the last time he had gone through the time machine, Louis felt his vision beginning to go black. 

“Are you okay, Lou?” Harry shouted again, desperately trying to hold himself and Louis—who was still wrapped around his middle—up. 

Louis hummed faintly, feeling as though he was going in and out of consciousness. Instead of trying to fight it, though, he let it happen. The last thing he heard was the banging sound of his body collapsing against the metal floor. 

\- - -

Liam pulled back up to the school in his beat up truck, parking in the closest spot to the entrance. The parking lot was close to empty; it was near the weekend, so that meant teachers and students alike had time to relax, catch up on homework, or even do a little partying. The last thing they would want to be doing is staying overtime at the school. 

Liam, however, had the exact opposite idea in mind, opening the door to the entrance of the school, knowing that the janitors wouldn’t lock up the place until seven. Sparing a glance at the watch on his wrist, he saw that it was only four. Plenty of time to mend up his machine then. 

While making his way down the stranded school hallway, Liam let his mind drift to his afternoon. Namely, the way he had treated his lifelong best friend, Louis. Liam knew Louis was just trying to help, and would support him no matter what, but Liam had just been so. . . _sure_ that this time would be the one time that it would really work. In his desperation and overconfidence, he had lashed out on Louis, not even sparing him a glance when he had left only an hour before when Louis was trying to apologise. When really, what did Louis have to apologize for in the first place?

Liam’s bushy eyebrows knitted together at the thought of Louis holding a grudge over him the next day, or, god forbid, thinking that _Liam_ was upset at him. In that moment, Liam made a decision; he would make the last final touches on his time machine, and then he would take a drive over to Louis’ place so he could properly apologise. One silly little disagreement would ruin their friendship, no sir. 

He had at last made it to the door that led down to the basement, reaching a hand out to turn the knob, when a great _CRASH_ could be heard echoing throughout the room below. Liam flinched back slightly at the sound, the hand he had reached out now hesitating, unsure if he should investigate the sound or go to get some help. A witness, perhaps, in case it wasn’t as something as simple as a loose tool falling from a high shelf. 

Liam was about to turn around, perhaps scour the whole building until he could find a janitor or something, when, from the depths of the basement, a low grunt could be heard, followed by a few weak clanking sounds. Weak clanking sounds that sounded a lot like. . . Liam gasped, affronted, _his machine!_

At the sudden realisation, Liam hesitated no more, opening the basement door, puffing his chest out, and taking on the steps two at a time. Liam could take the name calling, the less than kind things that were said behind his back, even the rumours, but he would _not_ stand for destruction of property. 

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, the sight that met his eyes was even worse than he could have ever expected, another gasp escaping his lips, this time laced with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. 

The time machine, that he had spent hours and hours of his life upon, was nothing like how it had looked in its former glory. While it had been lucky enough to stay in one piece, it was only just staying together. From what was once a bright, colourful and impressive looking machine at first sight, was now a darkened and burnt-looking mass of metal. Wrinkling his nose unpleasantly, Liam swore that whoever created this mess may have even set his machine on fire, judging by the rancid smell and the faint cloud of smoke rising from the very top, which— was that a metal rod attached at the very top?!

If Liam had any say in it, he would probably say he didn’t have a hand in making this machine at all. As he looked closer, he noticed that the pristine metal that he had used was now rusted, the lightbulbs he had expertly attached were missing and or broken, and most of all, the machine was at least two times as small from the last time he remembered it. 

Liam was unsure how to react, if he wanted to open his mouth to scream, yell, lay down on the floor to cry, throw an absolute tantrum, or just back away slowly and pretend when he woke up in the morning, this would all be a bad dream. Thankfully, Liam didn’t have to wait long for the perpetrators in question to make an appearance. 

With a few weak grunts and loud bangs, noise filled the once eerily silent room. Liam observed, with mounting confusion, that the villains in question seemed to be trapped inside of the machine, and was most likely attempting to fight their way out. From inside, Liam could hear quiet bickering, as though they were disagreeing on the proper way to escape from the prison they had found themselves in. 

Before Liam could politely offer his help, with the biggest creak and bang of all, the door was flung pathetically from its hinges, causing what appeared to be two fully grown men to collapse on the ground by Liam’s feet. Surprised—and a little disgusted by the look of them—Liam took two large steps back. 

What had to have been perfectly healthy and clean men before were now soot-ridden and dirty men, trailing dark brown and black marks everywhere they moved and onto whatever they touched. One man, in particular, looked strangely familiar, even as he rubbed the marks from his face and coughed out a cloud of dirt. In fact, he looked a whole lot similar to—

“Louis?!” Liam cried out without thinking, rushing to Louis’ side like a worried mother hen, paying no mind to the other confused, coughing man. “Are you alright?! What the hell were you doing in there?”

“Liam?” Louis croaked, coughing weakly before seeming to come to his senses. “Harry!” he cried, looking around wildly, “We’re alive!”

“Yay,” the other man, Harry, Liam supposed, grunted from his spot on the floor. 

Liam gave Harry an incredulous look before turning back to Louis. “Lou, what—”

“Liam,” Louis suddenly declared, clinging on desperately to the neck of Liam’s t-shirt, “I’m so sorry. For what I said to you last month, for not believing in you, for, well,” he shrugged ashamedly, “destroying your machine.”

Liam’s face dropped. “Louis, no. There’s no need for an apology. If anything, _I_ should apologise. You were just trying to look out for me, like you always do. Also— last month?! I saw you a couple of hours ago, Louis.”

Louis looked him deeply in the eyes for a moment, as if to make sure he was genuine about not being mad at him, before slapping him lightly on the cheek. “Good lad.”

With that, Louis found the strength to rise from his position, crawling his way over to Harry, shaking his body gently. To make sure he was still alive, Liam assumed, as the mystery man looked as though he were a moment away from keeling over. 

Harry had now sat up, looking significantly more awake now that Louis started slapping his face gently, similar to what he had done with Liam himself. 

It was a strange sight to see, Liam couldn’t help but think to himself as he watched the pair giggle all over each other. Louis usually wasn’t one to open up to people right away, and here he was now, with this complete stranger Liam had never met before, acting proper smitten. 

“Er. . . Lou?” Liam raised an eyebrow, shifting his eyes between his friend and the stranger. 

Despite the fact that Liam had only called Louis’ name, two heads turned to face him. “Yeah?” Louis answered with a slight giggle, carefree as ever as he held onto the stranger’s hand, as if there was nothing odd about the picture. 

Not wanting to be rude but also desperate for answers, Liam was blunt. “Who is this?”

Strangely enough, this only made Louis laugh more, looking at the stranger fondly, who seemed nervous at first, but was more comfortable with Louis by his side. Strange. 

“It’s a long story.”


End file.
